342  C 


THE  GLORY 
OF  HIS  COUNTRY 


THE    GLORY 
OF    HIS    COUNTRY 


BY 
Frederick    Landis 


NEW  YORK 

Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
1910 


Copyright,  1910,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
Published  February,  1910 


MARY  KUMLER  LANDIS 


2136854 


W.  M.  DERBY.  JR. 

4667  i  .;MBAS  ;  AVE. 

CHICAOO 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 


CHAPTER  I 

HAPPYVILLE   was  the  highest 
point  in  all  the  country  round, 
and  rivers  formed  a  wish-bone 
at  its  base.     The  fathers  had  cut  the 
garment  of  the  place  to  fit  the  trees  and 
left  them — oaks,  elms,  walnuts,  maples, 
sycamores — standing  in  the  sidewalks 
— even  in  the  streets,  for  these  were  wide 
beyond  the  dreams  of  traffic. 

Time-stained  columns  before  the 
court-house  hushed  protesting  tax- 
payers with  an  awe  of  government  and 
refreshed  artistic  spirits  with  a  glimpse 
of  Greece.  All  was  life  about  this  tem- 
ple of  justice ;  old  men  lounged  upon  its 
broad  steps,  tossing  problems  of  state 
into  Scorn's  back  yard;  in  the  court- 
room above,  the  lawyer  placed  a  finger 

[3] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

upon  the  hapless  juror's  knee  and  gave 
vent  to  tumult  heard  afar,  while  higher 
still,  pigeons  walked  forever  round  and 
round  the  cornice. 

As  the  city  stranger  paused  before  the 
venerable  homes  with  wide  porticoes, 
leaf  and  sunlight — playmates  since  cre- 
ation— made  golden  pictures  on  lawns 
of  plush ;  birds  sang  at  their  building ; 
bees  drank  from  roses;  squirrels  scam- 
pered off  with  the  cares  of  earth — and 
the  city  turned  to  a  pillar  of  salt. 

The  place  wore  many  ribbons  of 
distinction.  There  was  a  dentist  who 
gave  "laughing  gas,"  a  band  with  a  slide 
trombone,  and  a  reticent  painter,  who 
lived  alone  and  claimed  to  be  Charley 
Ross.  The  judge  had  gained  "second 
sight,"  cast  away  his  cane,  and  won  a 
re-election  after  the  bar  had  solemnly 
declared  him  feeble.  The  soldiers' 
monument  had  been  unveiled  by  Gen- 
[4] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

eral  Grant  on  his  return  from  around 
the  world.  The  American  House  had 
a  bridal  chamber,  the  County  Fair  had 
never  discounted  a  premium,  the  key 
to  the  jail  was  lost,  and  there  was 
neither  poor-house  nor  potter's  field. 

But  rarest  of  all  was  a  "Son  of  the 
Revolution" — one  of  the  Republic's 
few !  He  had  been  a  boy  with  Jackson 
at  New  Orleans,  and  later  knew  the 
great  La  Fayette.  What  a  dear  old 
spirit  "Uncle  Peter  Whitcomb"  was, 
counting  his  hundred  years  blandly  as 
the  moon  counts  lovers,  when,  with 
children  round  his  knees,  he  put  the 
winter  night  to  rout  with  endless  tale. 

This  mere  speck  upon  the  map  had 
sent  brave  men  out  to  battle-fields,  and 
brilliant  ones  into  life's  affairs,  and  now 
it  claimed  two  thousand  sterling  souls — 
such  as  are  the  "Old  Guard"  of  gov- 
ernments everywhere. 
[5] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Among  the  creaking  signs  round  the 
public  square  was  one  of  rusty  tin — 
"Daniel  &  Halfpap,  Attorneys  & 
Counsellors."  In  his  thirteenth  year 
Philip  Daniel  had  resolved  to  become 
another  Washington;  it  was  the  after- 
noon he  had  won  the  mule-race  at  the 
Fair.  Later  he  served  as  printer's  devil, 
brushed  flies  at  the  blacksmith  shop, 
worked  in  harvest  fields,  taught  school, 
bought  an  interest  in  a  wandering  cir- 
cus, and  one  bright  morning,  before  the 
judge  with  "second  sight"  could  re- 
cover from  astonishment,  he  had  been 
admitted  to  the  bar. 

After  this  event,  farmers  were  accus- 
tomed to  see  the  pale,  slender  youth, 
hawk-featured,  bare-headed,  long  of 
limb  and  raven  locks,  high  of  collar  and 
ambition,  his  hands  gesturing  strangely, 
striding  toward  Signal  Rock,  a  lime- 
stone obelisk  five  miles  away.  Then 
[6] 


THE  GLORY  OP  HIS  COUNTRY 

time  cooled  his  zeal  and  reduced  him  to 
the  ranks  of  the  unaspiring. 

Michael  Halfpap  had  never  been 
molested  by  heroic  meditations.  Phil- 
ip's ancestors  must  have  been  wear- 
ing armor  and  soothing  ladies  in  distress 
when  Michael's  were  simply  raising 
carrots  for  the  barons.  The  latter's 
right  eye  was  gray,  the  left  one  brown, 
and  while  the  first  caressed,  the  second 
defied.  His  nose  was  brief,  and  his  face 
seemed  to  hurry  from  it.  Fixed  pur- 
pose was  in  the  lips,  deep  lines  at  the 
sides  indicating  the  same  to  be  of  mirth- 
ful nature;  while  freckles  in  the  left 
cheek  formed  a  "Job's  coffin."  The 
Happyville  theosophist  glanced  at  Mr. 
Halfpap  but  once,  then  consulted  the 
orbit  of  Adam  and  declared  Michael  to 
be  none  less  than  grandfather  himself! 

This  youthful  partnership  was  more 
than  shingle  could  imply,  spanning  the 
[7] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

infinitude  from  possessions  to  desires, 
and  every  month  the  landlord  entered, 
only  to  learn  the  folly  of  living  for  pelf 
alone.  By  keeping  creditors  distinct, 
one  could  remain  to  "receive"  when  the 
other  stepped  to  the  roof;  the  hall  was 
long,  and  they  knew  the  tradesman's 
tread  as  sailors  sniff  the  gale  afar,  a 
mental  strain  which  was  lifted  in  sum- 
mer by  keeping  the  door  at  an  angle 
which  flashed  into  a  mirror  all  who 
mounted  the  stairs. 

Such  was  the  "active  practice"  one 
spring  afternoon  when  a  siren  whistle 
tumbled  into  confusion  the  cob-piped, 
story-telling  lot  in  "Daniel  &  Half- 
pap's"  office,  causing  Philip  to  rush 
to  action  in  a  red  helmet,  for  he  was 
"Corporal"  of  the  volunteer  fire  de- 
partment. 

More  commanders  than  men  soon 
issued  from  the  town  hall  with  hose- 

[8] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

cart,  buckets,  axes,  and  pikes,  charging 
up  the  street,  preceded  by  one  William 
Stiff,  a  harmless  worthy  given  to  ring- 
ing a  bell  at  the  head  of  demonstrations. 
The  flower  of  Happyville  looked  upon 
them  and  knew  not  fear — and  Fate 
leaned  over  the  edge  of  her  strange  star 
to  let  fall  a  rose — and  a  thorn. 

In  the  "Red  Front"  book-store  stood 
a  Phenomenon  with  sailor  hat,  October 
hair,  and  such  a  face  as  nature  sends  in 
answer  to  the  cynics.  Her  wide  blue 
eyes  were  as  gracious  deeds;  old  sun- 
sets lingered  in  her  cheeks;  she  was 
honesty  in  bloom — one  of  Time's  elect 
who  asked  no  bribe  to  be  glad,  wished 
naught  that  noonday  cloud  had  not; 
sweetened  insipid  hours  with  gratitude 
for  being,  took  ills  as  promises  of  better 
things,  and  smiled  throughout  the  day 
in  token  of  a  kinship  with  all  mornings 
from  the  first. 

[91 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

A  murmur  rippled  through  the  crowd ; 
"Corporal  Daniel"  had  dropped  the 
hose-cart  rope  and,  shoved  aside  by  his 
hurrying  fellows,  stood  in  the  street, 
transfixed.  He  rubbed  his  face,  then, 
possessed  by  the  pinkest  of  frenzies, 
plunged  into  the  store,  but  the  Phe- 
nomenon merely  gazed  upon  the  tug- 
ging line  of  firemen  and  then  resumed 
a  magazine.  An  object  crossed  the 
"Corporal's"  vision;  he  would  have 
brushed  it  aside  by  divine  right  had  it 
not  proved  to  be  the  proprietor. 

"What  will  you  have,  Philip  ?" 

The  young  man's  eyes  widened ;  "  I — 
I  want— I  called  to  get '  Demosthenes's 
Orations.'" 

The  proprietor  shook  his  head  sus- 
piciously; the  "Corporal's"  exit  was 
noiseless;  his  mission  had  been  gro- 
tesque— and  he  had  deserted  the  public 
defence ! 

[10] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

He  walked  two  blocks  and  returned 
to  find  the  vision  gone. 

Then  an  epoch  fell — the  "Cannon 
Ball"  whistled  for  a  stop — the  first  time 
since  Hiram  Hatfield  had  had  "floating 
kidney"  and  the  great  specialist  came. 
A  mighty  hand  hurled  the  red-helmeted 
youth  down  the  street  with  lightning 
speed ;  the  earth  arose  to  strike  his  feet 
with  rubber  paddles;  it  was  a  hori- 
zontal fall. 

A  little  later  would  have  been  fatal; 
the  conductor  was  waving  his  hand ;  the 
rear  door  opened  and  upon  the  observa- 
tion platform,  buttoning  a  light  travel- 
ling coat  to  her  chin,  stepped  the  Phe- 
nomenon ! 

With  helmet  high,  he  paid  silent 
tribute,  and  she  clasped  the  railing, 
bewildered. 

The  sailor  was  gone,  and  in  its  stead 
a  cap — a  checkered  island,  round  which 
[ii] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

tossed  surf  of  the  hue  of  harvests,  after 
dew  and  night  have  mellowed  the  pat- 
tern of  the  day. 

The  wheels  turned  faster ;  she  leaned 
slightly  forward;  her  head  lifted;  the 
lingering  sunsets  flushed  into  an  after- 
glow; her  eyes  were  filled  with  some- 
thing like  pebble  shadows  in  a  brook; 
the  air  rippled  with  gold ;  a  breeze  blew 
over  the  spicelands  of  Araby;  she 
smiled  and  cried:  "Good-by,  Demos- 
thenes!" 

"  Farewell,  Incomparable  One !  Come 
back  some  time!" 

The  train  curved  out  of  sight  with  the 
world  hitched  to  it. 

"Going  to  the  lawn  fete  to-night?" 
inquired  Halfpap  when  Philip  returned. 

"I'm  never  going  anywhere — I've 
been  to  war!" 

Michael  grew  sympathetic.  "I  don't 
blame  you — I  saw  her.  Who  is  she?" 

[12] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Philip  sank  into  his  chair  with  a  sigh. 
"Come  nearer,  my  dear  Halfpap — I'll 
whisper  in  confidence:  she's  the  Angel 
Gabriel,  in  a  better  shape — God  pity 
all  whose  resurrection  day  doesn't  come 
till  after  death." 

The  partners  were  looking  down  the 
hall  next  morning  when  the  postman 
appeared.  "  This  one  seems  a  little  dif- 
ferent, "  he  observed,  holding  a  square 
envelope  to  the  light. 

Philip  knew  it  would  break  Michael's 
heart  and  longed  to  snatch  it  away. 
The  latter 's  glance  conveyed  the  clair- 
voyance of  long  intimacy,  as  he  broke 
the  seal  and  calmly  read  aloud: 

"DEAR  COMRADE: — Enclosed  find 
dissolution  of  the  celebrated  firm  of 
*  Daniel  &  Halfpap,'  formed  four  years 
ago  under  a  misimpression  that  life  was 
a  house-party. 

[13] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"I  divorce  you  as  Napoleon  divorced 
Josephine,  and  by  way  of  alimony,  give 
you  our  cable  address,  *  Wolf.' 

"I  keep  the  back  room  and  give  you 
the  front — you  to  have  access  to  the 
roof  at  all  times. 

"Aside  from  each  other,  there  is  no 
reason  why  we  should  not  prosper. 

"Devoted  Half  pap,  hail  and  farewell! 
"PHILIP  DANIEL." 

Michael  bore  himself  like  a  Spartan, 
then  turned,  his  pen  rasping  the  silence 
like  a  file.  After  a  few  moments  he 
requested  a  loan  sufficient  for  postage 
and  special  delivery  stamp. 

They  were  discussing  some  issue  vital 
to  the  race  when  a  messenger  delivered 
the  following: 

"DEAR  PHILIP: — I  knew  it  was  a 
tragedy  the  first  day,  but  we  had  that 
embossed  stationery — and  what  is  more 
inelegant  than  lines  drawn  through  a 
letter-head ! 

[14] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"Once  I  did  resolve,  but  the  recollec- 
tion of  your  pulling  me  out  of  the  mill- 
race  started  the  old  refrain  and  I  de- 
cided to  let  things  drift,  hoping  in  the 
course  of  time  we  would  be  mobbed — 
a  means  of  dissolution  free  from  all 
embarrassment. 

"I  am  glad  no  witnesses  are  essential 
to  a  legal  division  of  chairs,  and  that  it 
can  be  a  quiet  home  affair. 

"M.  HALFPAP." 

Philip  was  lonely  after  this  sensation 
of  the  legal  world  had  been  consum- 
mated by  Michael's  taking  his  depart- 
ure. The  door  between  them  would 
always  be  open,  yet  life  could  not  be 
the  same. 

The  serious  phase  of  radiant  resolu- 
tions is  a  leaping  into  new  liabilities,  as 
if  debts  born  of  such  transports  paid 
golden  dividends.  Before  dinner  Philip 
reached  out  boldly.  He  acquired  a 
janitor,  persuaded  that  the  time  had 

[15] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

come  in  his  life  when  this  important 
step  should  be  taken ;  he  also  secured  a 
safe,  a  great  bargain — a  year's  time.  It 
was  an  age,  considering  the  size  of  the 
safe.  Then  suddenly  fearing  that  some 
one  might  seek  to  dispossess  him  of  the 
premises,  he  arranged  for  an  endless 
lease.  The  establishment  was  most 
cheerful;  it  had  been  a  photograph 
gallery,  and  a  mountain  scene,  left  by 
the  artist  in  his  haste,  divided  the  room 
into  parlors  of  jurisprudence,  while  the 
slanting  glass  roof  was  indescribable  in 
a  storm. 

Halfpap's  destiny  was  to  unfold  in 
the  "developing  room." 

Strategically,  Philip  thought  his  of- 
fice superb.  He  could  see  the  farm- 
ers— the  hope  of  the  legal  profession 
— as  they  entered  the  wagon-yard, 
while  the  view  of  the  court-house  was 
such  that  in  future  law-suits,  the  bai- 

[16] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

liff  could  merely  step  to  the  balcony 
and  call  his  name.  This  would  be  a 
great  convenience  for  the  bailiff.  Then 
in  moments  of  diversion — for  he  would 
be  compelled  to  take  them — he  could 
slant  a  chair  against  the  window  and 
see  the  lawyers'  team  pitch  horse-shoes 
against  the  doctors'. 

If  anything,  the  future  was  unfold- 
ing too  swiftly.  As  a  result  of  becom- 
ing effort,  he  had  been  invited  to 
address  the  Old  Settlers'  Picnic,  and 
now  was  busily  writing  some  lines  on 
"Our  Upward  Way."  He  would  pause 
as  from  his  pen  fell  some  bit  of  impris- 
oned splendor. 

Across  the  street,  idlers  now  gathered 
round  an  organ-grinder  who  sang:  "She 
died  when  I  was  at  sea."  Philip's 
vision  grew  indistinct.  What  if  during 
the  applause  which  was  to  greet  that 
Old  Settlers'  speech,  he  should  behold  a 

[17] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

glorious  creature  in  travelling  coat  and 
sailor  hat,  clinging  helplessly  to  the 
spell  ? 

It  did  seem  foolish,  still  when  had  the 
leaves  ever  whispered  so? 

Tapping  with  his  cane,  the  blind 
singer  passed  a  cup;  Philip  tossed  his 
last  coin  from  the  window,  then  gazed 
far  over  the  hills  where  a  grove  of  dog- 
wood wrapped  its  snowy  scarf  round  a 
country  church -yard.  Yes,  it  would  be 
a  great  speech,  and  who  could  tell  ? — a 
young  man's  triumph  on  such  an  occa- 
sion once  made  him  governor ! 

He  surveyed  frayed  cuffs  and  wrote  a 
line:  "Let  us  beware  of  luxury;  such 
was  the  curse  of  Rome!" 

Philip  turned  suddenly  as  a  guest 
pounded  down  the  hall;  it  was  Colo- 
nel Hardy,  the  town  capitalist.  When 
Philip  had  embarked  in  the  circus  busi- 
ness the  Colonel  was  famous  for  helping 

[18] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

young  men,  and  meeting  him  on  the 
bridge,  the  budding  Barnum  had  simul- 
taneously revealed  his  identity  and  a 
note  for  five  hundred  dollars ;  and  using 
the  applicant's  back  for  a  desk,  Hardy 
had  welcomed  the  hazard,  saying: 
"Glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Daniel;  it's  a 
fine  business — good  luck!" 

Philip  now  arose  to  greet  his  friend, 
but  the  latter  stood  in  ominous  silence. 
He  was  over  six  feet  and  straight  as  a 
West  Pointer  should  be  at  seventy.  The 
bristly,  white  mustache,  the  smooth, 
tanned  face,  the  alert  step,  the  bold 
nose,  jaw,  and  eyes  suggested  his  Alma 
Mater.  The  Colonel's  gaze  grew  more 
intense,  then  he  placed  before  Philip  a 
copy  of  the  Trumpet,  still  fragrant  of 
ink,  and  pointed  to  the  comment: 

"A  certain  young  Happyvillite  was 
missing  at  the  fire  in  Humphrey's 
'second-hand  parlor.'  He  started,  but 

[19] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Ha-ha!      Success,  Phil;    the   Trumpet 
tenders  congratulations  in  advance." 

Philip's  face  was  swept  with  indigna- 
tion, but  it  vanished  before  the  Colonel's 
rising  temper: 

"Mr.  Philip  Daniel,  that's  full  of 
dynamite!" 

And  as  the  young  man  marvelled, 
the  old  man  walked  away. 


[20] 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  Old  Settlers'  Picnic  was  won- 
derful. All  creation  streamed  in 
with  the  dawn,  and  dusty  threads 
hung  over  the  roads  for  miles.  There 
were  floats  with  girls  in  old  fashions, 
cabins  on  wheels,  horsemen  in  hunt- 
ing-shirts, while  the  town  was  dressed 
till  it  looked  like  a  woman. 

Two  flags,  faded  and  torn,  hung  be- 
fore the  court-house.  Both  had  been 
given  to  departing  regiments  on  the 
spot,  one  waving  all  the  way  to  Mexico, 
the  other  from  Donelson  to  Atlanta. 
Soldiers  hobbled  around  them,  and  a 
blind  man,  led  by  a  child,  went  up  to 
"feel  the  colors." 

People  just  visited  in  the  morning,  old 
friends  meeting  for  the  first  time  in  a 

[21] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

year.  It  was  not  "  conversation  " ;  they 
meant  it;  it  was  "  talk,"  honest  as  grass, 
fragrant  as  an  "out-oven"  of  bread. 

"Whur's  the  boy  Zack  took  to  raise 
— the  one  sent  out  from  the  East?" 

"Oh,  you  mean  Willie — the  'bound 
boy';  why,  bless  you — in  Calif ornie; 
got  a  wife  and  six  children;  sent  his 
picture  back  last  Christmas;  roses  in 
bloom — think  of  it!" 

"Father"  Post  with  transparent  face, 
beaver  hat,  and  old  stock,  called  grand- 
fathers "John"  and  "Samuel"  as  the 
day  he  baptized  them.  He  is  asked  to 
settle  a  dispute — "The  first  white  fu- 
neral— let  me  see — it  was  in  '28 — that 
cold  New  Year's  before  the  spring  the 
'milk  sick'  was  so  terrible." 

Four  generations  surround  a  woman 
with  snowy  hair,  silk  bonnet,  and  pale 
glory  round  her  face;  she  declines  one 
chair  after  another. 

[22] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"Oh,  no,  thanks;  the  idy — slip  of  a 
girl  like  me !  Well,  as  I  was  a-sayin' — 
for  the  earache,  you  take  a  pipe,  fill  it 
with  tobacco,  an'  start  it;  lay  a  cloth 
over  the  bowl — just  like  this;  put  the 
stem  in  the  child's  ear  an'  blow  the 
smoke  in  back'ard,  then  close  the  ear 
with  cotton,  an'  the  smoke  '11  cure  it 
without  fail!" 

Boots  were  "blacked"  at  home; 
white  dresses  had  the  rare  scent  of 
ironed  cleanliness,  and  little  boys  and 
girls  felt  stiff,  dressed  up  on  a  week- 
day! 

Neatness  is  a  kind  biographer;  it 
told  how  these  had  seen  the  whites  of 
the  eyes  of  pioneer  life  but  feared 
nothing  save  debt;  how  they  had  never 
thrown  a  crust  away  nor  turned  a 
tramp  from  the  door;  how  they  had 
saved  the  last  cartridge,  and  sat  up 
with  the  sick;  how  they  had  made  a 

[23] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

nation  with  the  sickle  and  the  spinning- 
wheel — and  never  thought  about  it. 

There  were  no  beggars,  drunkards, 
thieves,  anarchists — none  but  folks  who 
look  like  the  flag. 

Amos  and  William — lawyer  and  car- 
toonist— were  home  for  the  day — the 
farm  feeds  the  city  so  its  own  sons  may 
reap  the  city's  rewards.  And  how  these 
two  were  greeted;  there  is  no  knight- 
hood like  the  pride  of  old  neighbors. 

Candidates  were  shaking  hands  and 
laughing  boisterously;  bands  tramped 
up  and  down,  playing  "Indian  Ghost" 
and  "Wake  Up,  Sandy";  toy  balloons 
floated  like  bubbles  over  all;  cane- 
racks,  peanut-stands,  taffy-hooks,  ice- 
cream tents  flourished.  Under  a  can- 
vas the  youth  and  his  "girl"  had  tin- 
types taken,  and  once  when  a  child 
was  lost,  hundreds  searched  till,  all 
smiles,  it  was  restored. 

[24] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

The  meeting  was  called  to  order  at 
eleven  o'clock,  and  rocking-chairs  pre- 
sented to  the  oldest  couple ;  then  came 
sack  and  wheelbarrow  races,  and  a 
fifty-yard  dash  for  all  over  sixty-five, 
after  which  a  greased  pig  cast  the 
multitude  into  confusion  till  it  was 
claimed  by  a  panting  urchin  with 
freckles  and  a  future! 

There  was  dinner  enough  for  an 
army,  all  bringing  twice  what  was 
needed — pyramids  of  chicken  and  cake 
— tables  were  half  a  block  long,  and  girls 
with  long  switches  kept  off  the  flies. 

Then  it  was  cleared  away  like  a 
tumbler's  mat  in  a  circus,  the  surplus 
sent  to  the  Orphans'  Home,  and  thou- 
sands packed  the  court-house  yard, 
waiting  for  the  speeches. 

"Father  Post"  looked  the  patriarch, 
offering  prayer,  and  everybody  stood 
for  "The  Star  Spangled  Banner." 

[25] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Perhaps  too  much  was  expected  of 
United  States  Senator  Bolivar.  Dur- 
ing his  speech  the  crowd  grew  restless, 
and  La  Fayette  Conrad,  frontier  de- 
bater, deliberately  folded  the  hose  of 
his  ear-trumpet  and  sought  a  comfort- 
able position. 

A  young  clergyman  was  next  intro- 
duced, principally  because  he  had  come 
"from  a  distance."  His  theme  seemed 
to  be  the  certainty  of  death,  and  insinu- 
ations were  levelled  at  the  aged  to  the 
effect  that  their  persistence  was  repre- 
hensible. 

Closing  with  a  description  of  the 
sinner's  death-bed,  the  orator  addressed 
Mr.  Conrad:  "My  venerable  friend, 
the  issue  is  not,  What  riches  have  you 
garnered?  but,  What  will  you  say  on 
judgment  day?" 

It  was  too  much;  Mr.  Conrad's 
wheat  crop  had  been  a  failure  and  so, 

[26] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

humped  up  in  impatience  and  ancient 
broadcloth,  he  snapped  back:  "I've 
nothing  prepared;  I'll  trust  to  the  in- 
spiration of  the  moment!" 

Philip  would  come  next  on  the  pro- 
gramme, and  while  friends  waved  en- 
couraging hands,  nothing  could  banish 
the  horror  of  it;  it  was  like  impending 
execution;  thus  far  the  audience  had 
not  clapped  a  hand,  and  with  frigid 
extremities  he  thanked  heaven  that  it 
would  all  be  over  in  some  way  by 
night. 

Then  Colonel  Hardy,  possibly  noting 
something  which  suggested  the  volun- 
teer in  his  first  skirmish,  had  Major 
McFaddin  called. 

The  Major  was  brother  to  Happy- 
ville's  mineral  spring ;  men  went  wrong 
and  wells  went  dry  but  these  two 
sparkled  on ;  both  had  always  belonged 
to  the  town  and  always  would.  His 

[27] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

face  and  head  were  a  smooth,  pink 
globe,  and  a  mighty  cheer  broke  forth 
as  the  smiling  favorite  arose,  a  stuffed 
wildcat  under  his  arm. 

The  dean  of  local  bachelors,  he  re- 
lated woes  with  his  "mother-in-law" 
till  old  ladies  held  their  sides.  His 
collar  wilted,  and  drawing  off  a  linen 
duster  he  cast  it  across  the  stage, 
without  stopping  the  torrent  of  words, 
and  there  were  shouts — it  was  a  familiar 
performance.  He  related  jokes  on  com- 
patriots, reviewed  their  courtships,  and 
dramatically  traced  Philander  Three- 
wits  crossing  the  Alleghany  Mountains, 
bringing  the  first  night-shirt  to  the 
wilderness. 

He  told  of  log-rollings,  barn-raisings, 
spelling-matches,  and  described  a  coon- 
hunt  till  one  could  almost  hear  the 
dogs.  He  lifted  the  marble-eyed  wild- 
cat from  the  stand  for  the  peroration: 

[28] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"Come  to  my  museum  and  see  the 
things  of  'real  days' — for  it  takes  more 
than  a  sun  to  make  a  day.  I've  foxes 
and  'painters';  I've  war-clubs,  arrows, 
feathers  and  paint;  I've  the  under-jaw 
of  a  '  cata wampus, '  and  the  skulls  of 
Black  Hawk — both  of  them — the  skull 
of  Black  Hawk  when  he  was  a  young 
man,  and  the  skull  of  Black  Hawk  just 
before  he  died!" 

Wave  after  wave  of  laughter  and 
cheers  followed  the  Major  to  his  chair. 

After  all,  was  it  not  worse  for  Philip 
than  if  he  had  followed  "the  cloth"? 
But  such  speculation  ended;  the  chair- 
man was  bowing. 

It  was  a  marvellous  greeting,  not  un- 
like a  great  clock  at  whose  striking 
puppets  nod,  for  to  most  of  these  peo- 
ple Philip  was  a  stranger.  A  common 
spring  seemed  to  lift  him  upright  and 
turn  thousands  of  heads  in  inquiring 

[29] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

pantomime.  Under  such  a  spell  it  was 
child's  play  to  empty  the  pitcher  and 
upset  the  glass,  while  his  masterpiece 
left  for  parts  unknown. 

Genius  has  gone  below  and  enriched 
us  with  the  groans  of  the  lost,  but  she  is 
too  faint  of  heart  to  describe  the  pangs  of 
budding  speech  when  memory  expires. 

The  young  man  had  clandestinely 
placed  several  reminders  behind  a  vase 
of  poppies,  but  the  breeze,  with  joyous 
eagerness,  caught  the  oratorical  life- 
preserver  and  gave  it  to  the  world ;  the 
last  tie  with  the  race  was  sundered; 
he  was  free! 

To  him  the  audience  was  a  blurred 
composite,  with  one  exception — a  stout 
gentleman,  standing  at  the  very  rear 
with  flaming  twins  in  his  arms.  Philip 
could  not  escape  him;  his  eyes  re- 
turned again  and  again  till  the  gentle- 
man's face  assumed  the  dreadful  aspect 

[30] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

of  a  head  at  a  midnight  window — at 
any  minute  it  might  spread  to  the  twins ! 

Little  did  the  stout  gentleman  know 
the  part  he  played,  but  it  flashed  upon 
the  orator  with  a  chill,  then  an  all- 
pervading  glow;  it  was  a  challenge  to 
pull  a  wish-bone  with  Fate:  "Hold  him 
who  holds  the  twins  and  claim  your 
great  desire ! "  Over  his  memory  floated 
a  vision  of  a  beautiful  girl.  He  shed 
his  coat,  and  with  the  glittering  eye  of 
primitive  man  at  bay,  plunged  in.  The 
speech  stood  forth,  line  for  line  as 
written,  and  going  along,  he  gathered 
wild  flowers  in  the  garden  of  presence 
of  mind  as  a  philosopher  strolls  in  his 
grove. 

Above  the  multitude  soared  mottled 
sycamores,  whose  rustling  leaves  of 
gold  and  brown  wove  sunlight  into 
shadows,  only  to  ravel  them  into  sun- 
light again. 

[31] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Turning,  after  a  while,  to  address 
gentlemen  upon  the  stand,  Philip  found 
La  Fayette  Conrad,  sitting  with  hand 
outspread  to  aid  his  trumpet.  Oh,  to 
have  fallen  at  his  feet!  He  was  all 
benevolence,  and  over  his  wrinkled  face 
danced  a  satisfaction  which  made  one 
love  him  forever. 

Applause  is  fine,  but  to  know  that 
one  has  only  to  pluck  it,  is  finer.  It  was 
all  over  too  soon.  Michael  Half  pap 
leaped  to  his  feet,  proposing  three 
cheers;  those  upon  the  stage  crowded 
round  with  wonderful  words,  and  the 
audience  called  the  orator  back  for  a 
"tiger." 

Then  came  an  arrow  memory ;  Philip 
arose — Glory!  He  had  vanquished 
Fate;  the  gentleman  with  the  twins 
stood,  smiling  at  his  post.  Doubt  was 
dead  and  Rapture  crowned — the  world 
was  his — and  the  Incomparable! 

[32] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

The  band  was  playing  "The  Battle 
Cry  of  Freedom";  the  thousands  were 
singing  as  though  it  were  an  anthem 
of  deliverance,  while  Colonel  Hardy, 
every  inch  the  soldier  in  the  charge, 
stood  leading  the  chorus  with  his  cane. 

All  space  fluttered  with  victory's 
countless  wings.  Such  an  instant  may 
come  but  once;  it  is  fleeting,  yet  long 
enough  to  overpay  lifetime  toil  and 
sacrifice. 

It  comes  when  some  patient  watch- 
man of  the  universe  at  last  beholds  the 
sudden  light  we  call  discovery,  or  the 
chance  rock  in  some  derided  student's 
pathway  tells  the  secret  we  know  as 
science;  it  comes  when  writh  crust  for 
marriage  feast,  some  garret-king  mates 
dream  and  rainbow  and  gives  us  art; 
but  greater  far  than  these,  it  comes 
when  Fancy  piles  our  planet  high  with 
the  matchless  gems  of  a  lover's  dream. 

[33] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Leaning  back  in  the  deep  chair, 
this  is  what  Philip  seemed  to  see — 
again  the  "Cannon  Ball"  came  and 
went ;  again  the  Incomparable  buttoned 
the  light  travelling-coat  to  her  chin  and 
clasped  the  railing — but  she  was  not 
alone.  As  they  swept  down  the  valley 
along  the  old  tow-path,  he  pointed  out 
the  charred  ribs  of  the  canal-boat 
Isabella,  on  which  Charles  Dickens  was 
once  a  guest,  for  in  her  day  she  was  the 
pride  of  the  "Red  Bird  Packet  Line." 
Now  they  turned  to  mark  the  trail  up 
Echo  Hollow  whence  the  Iroquois 
departed ;  a  little  while  and  there  were 
silver  glimpses  of  waterfalls  in  Fitch's 
Glen;  then  they  passed  beneath  the 
still  canopy  of  old  trees,  more  slowly 
climbing  the  ridge,  leaning  with  the 
sweeping  river  bend,  lordly  as  a  crea- 
tor's gesture.  On  in  circling  ascent 
they  went  till  high  in  the  distance,  as 

[34] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

if  thrust  forward  by  a  giant's  arm,  the 
cliff  glided  into  view — and  with  it 
Happyville — like  some  toy  city,  built 
of  blocks,  now  touched  with  changing 
lights,  as  the  sun  shot  his  final  arrow 
high,  then  flung  his  quiver  off  and  sank 
upon  a  couch  of  amethyst;  evening's 
calm  tide  swept  up  the  valley  far  be- 
neath and  drifting  with  it,  queer  shadow 
ships,  dragging  their  anchors. 

The  last  words  of  "The  Battle  Cry 
of  Freedom"  floated  away,  the  people 
rustled  down  into  silence  again — and 
Philip  emerged  from  his  dream. 

There  are  trustful  souls  wrho  adore 
a  spirit  which  on  our  little  stage  is 
thought  to  time  mortal  entrances  and 
exits,  leading  this  way  and  that,  rais- 
ing barriers  of  sea  and  circumstance, 
not  by  way  of  whim  or  torment,  as 
it  would  seem,  but  to  set  common  lives 
to  the  stately  metre  of  romance. 

[35] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

No  sooner  had  this  phantom  train 
crept  round  the  edge  of  Signal  Rock, 
than  up  from  below  came  the  stop- 
signal  of  the  real  "  Cannon  Ball,"  and 
those  who  recalled  Philip's  fire  depart- 
ment episode  turned  smilingly  toward 
the  stage  to  find  the  young  orator  lean- 
ing forward  alert. 

The  people  listened  while  the  engine 
puffed  haughtily  past  the  cliff.  A  little 
girl,  all  dressed  for  the  part,  was  re- 
citing "  Barbara  Frietchie"  when  hoofs 
clattered  up  from  the  station  and 
men  ran  out,  brandishing  their  arms. 
Around  the  corner  flew  a  picturesque 
outfit,  half  in  air — white  mule  with 
Roman  nose,  countenance  aflame,  as 
with  remembered  grievances  of  its 
kind;  collar  pressing  its  ears;  harness 
patched  with  twine,  spring  wagon  with 
dash  kicked  in,  wheels  which  would 
have  wobbled  near  collapse  in  ordinary 

[36] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

travel;  an  old  tramp-like  man,  bare- 
headed, with  flying  coat,  tugging  at 
the  lines;  and,  most  wonderful  of  all, 
beside  him  a  veiled  figure,  head  erect, 
disdainful,  glorious — like  Marie  Antoi- 
nette riding  to  the  guillotine. 

With  lightning  intuition,  Philip  arose 
to  leave  the  stand,  but  Colonel  Hardy 
intervened,  his  concern  most  extraor- 
dinary, and  when  the  mule  subsided, 
he  whispered  with  profound  relief: 

"Thank  God— she  isn't  hurt!" 
'You  know  her?"  Philip  anxiously 
inquired. 

The  Colonel  heeded  not. 
'You  don't  display  the  same  solici- 
tude for  the  driver,  Colonel?" 

"Philip,  you  once  promised  any- 
thing I'd  ask — banish  those  people 
from  your  memory  forever!" 

It  was  so  frivolous,  so  foreign  to  his 
friend    of   iron,   that   the  young  man 
[37] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

smiled;  or  was  it  at  the  thought  that 
while  the  veiled  figure's  bearing  had 
something  in  it  far  removed  from  Hap- 
py ville,  he  should  have  associated  the 
Incomparable  with  that  flying  scrap- 
pile?  It  was  profane — she  who  was 
possible  in  nothing  less  than  a  chariot ! 

It  proved  to  be  no  time  for  levity. 

"Don't  laugh— please!" 

The  Colonel's  agitation  was  greater 
than  the  day  he  had  warned  Philip  in 
the  office. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  said  in  a  little 
while,  "scenes  like  that  upset  me — they 
suggest  a  battery  going  into  action." 
He  fumbled  the  Loyal  Legion  button 
in  his  coat  lapel;  "Philip,  that  was  a 
great  speech — magnificent!" 

Then  another  song  floated  forth — a 
little  of  the  music  of  the  spheres — 
"God  be  with  you  till  we  meet 
again." 

[38] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"Father"  Post  lifted  his  hands  for 
the  benediction,  after  which  people 
surged  toward  the  balloon  ascension. 
The  huge  bag  filled,  tugging  harder 
and  harder  at  its  ropes;  an  aeronaut 
in  red  tights  scampered  nimbly  about, 
stumbling  over  youthful  admirers. 
Then  Newt  Gillispie,  chairman  of 
sports,  stepped  forth: 

"Ladies  and  Gentlemen:  Louis  La- 
vachela — King  of  the  Air!" 

The  "king"  extended  both  hands  in 
a  sweeping  bow. 

"Stand  back!"  cried  Newt, 

The  patch  of  darkness  shot  skyward, 
Lavachela  swinging  from  the  trapeze 
in  a  maze  of  tricks.  It  arose  till  the 
whole  thing  was  like  a  spider  clinging  to 
a  pear,  then  a  current  of  air  bore  it 
safely  over  the  river,  when  the  spider 
seemed  to  sink  toward  earth,  and  a 
sigh  swept  over  the  upturned  faces. 

[39] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Something  like  a  morning-glory  upside 
down,  spread  out  of  nothingness  above 
the  spider  and  was  wafted  jauntily 
downward.  The  pear-like  object  above 
it  turned  and  from  its  sides  issued  a 
thread  of  gray;  then  it  collapsed,  stag- 
gering in  the  sky,  like  an  old  hat 
tossed  out  of  Jupiter  in  house-cleaning 
time. 

Hundreds  raced  through  the  cov- 
ered bridge  to  greet  the  aeronaut; 
buggies  were  backed,  children  called, 
farewells  exchanged,  and  "Old  Set- 
tlers' Day"  was  past. 

They  had  walked  to  the  foot  of 
Philip's  stairway  before  Colonel  Hardy 
spoke:  "Possibly  I  was  a  little  rough 
back  there."  Then  he  continued,  by 
way  of  justification:  "If  the  young 
woman  behind  that  mule  will  give  the 
world  in  joy  just  a  hundredth  part  of 

[40] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

what  the  old  man  gave  it  in  grief,  she 
will  be  a  saint — and  I  have  every  faith 
that  she  will.  And  if  you  will  only  let 
me  have  charge  of  this  love  affair — you 
will  thank  me  some  day.  Since  you 
hesitate,  my  young  friend,  I'll  tell  you 
I  happen  to  be  in  charge  of  it  this  very 
minute;  you  could  not  find  her  in  a 
thousand  years!" 

"Who   was   the   old   man?" 
The  Colonel  struggled  to  appear  in- 
different.    "Oh,   just   a   man    named 
Shanks — the  only  man  I  never  speak 
to — and  never  can!" 

"And  the  young  woman?" 
"Remember,   Philip,    I    asked    you 
to  banish  them  from  your  mind  for- 
ever!" 

Within  the  hour  numerous  citizens 
turned  toward  Philip's  office,  but  his 
door  was  locked  against  them  as  his 
mood  was  locked  against  felicitations. 

[41] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"Shanks!"  "Shanks!"  He  repeated 
the  name  as  if  to  beguile  the  air  to 
solve  the  riddle.  He  sat  by  the  win- 
dow, and  the  hills  rolled  away  into  a 
sea  of  conjecture.  The  smoke  from 
his  corn-cob  pipe  curled  into  count- 
less letters,  "S."  He  sat  till  the  sun 
went  down  and  the  evening  star  came 
forth — and  they  both  began  writh  "S." 

"But  no,"  he  soliloquized,  "her 
name  may  be  Stanley — or  Stuart — 
something  like  that — but  *  Shanks' — 
that  is  unthinkable." 


[42] 


CHAPTER  III 

PHILIP  forgot  his  supper;  he  sat 
and  watched  the  shadows  widen 
into     twilight    and    the    twilight 
deepen  into  night.     The  thrill  of   tri- 
umph was  in  his  heart ;  there  was  a  tide 
in  every  finger-tip.     He  had  not  heeded 
a  familiar  step  in  the  hall  and  did  not 
turn  till  Michael  Half  pap  entered,  his 
eyes  more  illumined  than  the  lamp  he 
bore. 

"You've  made  the  greatest  speech 
Happyville  ever  heard;  announce  that 
you're  candidate  for  anything  and  it's 
yours!" 

A  glow  came  over  Philip's  face;  he 
reflected  how  the  Old  Settlers  had  slept 
in  the  full  oratorical  glare  of  United 
States  Senator  Bolivar  and  a  thought 

[43] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

came  tumbling  down  from  the  Moun- 
tains of  Audacity — the  great  are  only 
others  far  off! 

"Mike!"  he  exclaimed;  "you're  right 
—go  tell  Colonel  Hardy!" 

In  the  fulness  of  time,  that  is,  next 
day,  a  public  uprising — Colonel  Hardy 
and  M.  Halfpap — entered  Philip's  office. 

The  former  had  brushed  his  white  hair 
back  and  his  bearing  bespoke  a  thirst 
for  action.  Striding  to  the  window,  he 
lifted  his  head  imperiously.  "Philip,  do 
you  want  to  go  to  Congress?" 

Philip  grew  suddenly  non-committal. 
"Why,  Colonel,  you  bewilder  me;  my 
tastes  are  all  in  the  line  of  my  profes- 
sion; I " 

"What!"  demanded  the  warrior, 
striking  the  floor  with  his  cane. 

Michael's  gray  eye  suggested  Evan- 
geline  in  the  alms-house;  the  brown 
one,  Mirabeau  in  the  Assembly. 

[44] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

i 

Philip  arose,  and  paced  the  floor. 
"As  I  was  about  to  say — here  we  have 
the  two  great  parties:  you,  Colonel, 
stand  for  Republicanism,  while  Mr. 
Halfpap  is  the  very  embodiment  of 
Democracy;  this  is,  therefore,  a  na- 
tional demand,  and,  fellow  countrymen, 
I  dare  not  retreat!" 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  a  room 
eight  by  twelve,  with  floor  in  the  nude, 
a  virgin  safe,  a  Titian  stove,  the  most 
introspective  of  Lincolns,  two  Venus  de 
Miloed  chairs,  and  a  candid  vest  in  a 
broken  window,  ceased  to  be  a  bazaar 
of  equitable  relief. 

After  his  "fellow  countrymen"  had 
departed,  the  freshly  hewn  Pillar  of  the 
Republic  sat  as  if  dazed,  till  a  breeze 
blew  the  candid  vest  into  his  lap,  when 
deftly  replacing  it,  he  locked  the  door. 

Long  years  before,  a  Congressman 
had  visited  Philip's  father;  the  children 

[45] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

had  eaten  the  evening  meal  in  awe ;  they 
had  all  sat  in  the  front  row  at  the  school- 
house  meeting — and  that  stranger  had 
become  President! 

A  phantom  struggled  out  of  Half- 
pap's  lamp,  smiling  as  best  a  phantom 
could  in  a  broken  chimney. 

The  evening  was  growing  cool;  the 
"Pillar"  sprang  behind  the  mountain 
scene,  returning  with  not  one  or  two, 
but  a  whole  armful  of  cigar-boxes — a 
friendly  tradesman's  contribution — and 
in  an  instant  the  stove  was  roaring. 

An  announcement  is  like  a  plunge 
into  the  river,  and  public  opinion's 
"seven  ages"  are  ever  the  same:  first, 
boisterous  laughter;  second,  doubt  of 
genuineness;  third,  admonition  that 
one  may  yet  retire;  fourth,  reflection 
that  it  is  a  free  country;  fifth,  assur- 
ance that  it  cannot  be  harmful;  sixth, 

[46] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

belief  that  there  is  a  possibility  of  suc- 
cess, and  seventh,  eternal  devotion  from 
the  start. 

The  Happyville  "Rng,"  also  the 
Trumpet,  the  official  organ,  were  for 
Congressman  Morrow.  For  twenty 
years  he  had  kept  what  others  wanted— 
a  long  time  to  commit  the  unpardonable 
sin — a  feat  calling  for  constant  organi- 
zation and  dexterous  manipulation  of 
patronage,  the  Congressman's  view- 
point of  public  affairs  being  the  same 
from  which  the  Alderney  contemplates 
the  clover  crop. 

There  were  six  counties  in  the  dis- 
trict and  two  candidates  besides  Mor- 
row and  Daniel — Judge  Clark  and 
"Commodore"  Luke  Bun,  an  auc- 
tioneer, both  of  whom  had  for  many 
years  sought  to  wrest  from  Morrow  the 
constituency  which  he  had  the  honor 
and  nervous  prostration  to  represent. 

[47] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

The  judge  was  sixty  and  ponderous, 
while  the  "Commodore,"  ten  years  his 
junior,  was  wiry  and  sad-visaged. 
Clark  and  Bun  assured  Philip  that 
their  real  desire  was  to  defeat  Mor- 
row, and  promised  to  nominate  him 
if  neither  of  them  could  win  after  a 
"fair  trial." 

Philip  had  ridden  day  and  night, 
canvassing  by  roadside  and  fireside, 
speaking  in  barns,  mills,  school-houses 
— wherever  his  peers  assembled — and 
now  with  the  primaries  only  one  week 
away,  he  was  confident  of  a  solid 
county  delegation,  and  if  Clark  and  Bun 
held  to  their  pledges,  victory  seemed  as- 
sured. 

"It  is  too  good  to  be  true,"  he  ob- 
served to  Colonel  Hardy,  as  they  sat  in 
his  office  that  night.  "This  situation 
is  so  plain  that  no  man  can  be  misled, 

[48] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

yet  the  'Ring*  is  confident.  Our  fight 
has  been  from  the  house-top — maybe 
there's  water  in  the  basement." 

"Nonsense — it's  all  over  but  the 
shouting!" 

They  were  rising  to  leave,  when  a 
rider  galloped  through  the  covered 
bridge  and  brought  up  beneath  the 
window.  Rain  beat  against  the  glass, 
and  swaying  street-lights  cast  long 
black  lines  over  the  town. 

"Some  fellow  coming  for  the  doctor," 
said  Hardy,  clasping  his  umbrella  more 
tightly. 

A  cry  came  up  from  the  curb,  its 
anxiety  seeming  to  blend  with  the  com- 
plaining night- wind — "Whur's  Dan'l's 
office?" 

Philip  raised  the  window,  and  a  gust 
of  rain  swept  across  the  room.  An  old 
man,  mounted  upon  a  white  mule,  held 
up  a  home-made  lantern  of  tin,  and 

[49] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

through  its  irregular  slits  the  light  es- 
caped in  strange  patterns. 

"It's  'Old  Settlers'  Day'  Shanks- 
mule  and  all!" 

"He's  come  ten  miles — call  him  up — 
but  I  can't  see  him."  The  Colonel 
stepped  into  Halfpap's  room  and  closed 
the  door. 

The  storm-beaten  old  fellow  shuffled 
up  the  stairs  and  half  ran  down  the  hall- 
way, the  water  dripping  from  his 
clothes  and  gurgling  in  his  shoes. 
Placing  the  lantern  upon  the  floor,  he 
removed  an  ancient,  funnel-shaped  hat. 
The  tramp  of  many  seasons  had  worn 
away  the  boundary  between  its  crown 
and  brim.  His  face  was  sharp  and 
pale  and  anxious.  Out  of  breath,  he 
brushed  thin,  white  matted  hair  back 
from  a  brow,  wrinkled  and  veined.  A 
drop  of  rain  swelled  upon  his  cheek- 
bone, then  burst  and  trickled  down  his 

[50] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

slanting  face  to  the  kind  of  a  mouth 
men  had  in  days  of  "Yes"  and  "No" 
days  of  action — real  men — miracles  of 
heart  and  brain,  wrought  by  trees  and 
rivers  and  the  sky — by  peril,  toil,  and 
solitude. 

His  old,  gray  eyes  were  alert  and  prone 
to  challenge  objects  rather  than  regard 
them ;  they  hurriedly  searched  the  room 
and  the  young  man's  face.  Then  a  cry 
escaped  the  withered  lips,  "My  God, 
Dan'l — who  air  you ! "  The  bushy,  silver 
brows  contracted  and  Shanks  peered 
hard  into  Philip's  face.  Advancing,  he 
placed  a  trembling  hand  upon  the  can- 
didate's temple,  then  stepped  back,  his 
face  twitching  as  with  pain. 

To  the  young  man  standing  against 
the  window  his  guest  seemed  half 
mummy — half  memory. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  Mr. 
Shanks?" 

[51] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"Oh,  I  f ergot — you  put  me  so  much 
in  mind  uv  a  boy  I  ust  to  know — it 
wuz  a  long  time  ago."  There  was 
apology  in  his  tone. 

Then  his  eyes  danced  brightly. 
"Dan'l,  I  knew  it  wuz  a  lie,  an*  'at 
time  wuz  short — so  I  come  to-night. 
It's  tumble  out,  I  tell  you;  roads  is 
orfel;  Pigeon  Crick  bridge  gone  out 
— had  to  ford — nearly  went  over  the 
dam." 

Tapping  Philip's  breast  with  a  bony 
finger,  Shanks  leaned  close  and  whis- 
pered with  glee:  "They're  both  at  my 
place  now — the  ole  toll-gate  at  Pisgah, 
you  know — and  they're  drunk  as  b'iled 
owls.  They  druv  up  four  hour  ago — 
Spotts,  'at  runs  the  Trumpet,  an' 
'nuther  feller;  they  wuz  a-comin'  back 
frum  Bowser's  Mill;  storm  hit  'em 
an'  they  ast  to  stay  all  night.  I  put 
up  their  horse  an'  they  set  by  the 

[52] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

fire,  an'  fin'ly  Spotts  fetched  a  bottle 
out  an'  they  swigged  an*  talked  an' 
made  fun  o'  you,  an'  fin'ly  Spotts 
pointed  to  a  bundle  a-layin'  by  the 
fire  an'  says  he:  'Purty  cute  o'  me 
a-havin'  'em  printed  at  Bowser's  Mill 
— no  danger  uv  it  gittin'  out  ahead  o' 
time.' 

"Well,  Spotts  kep'  a-soakin'  his  hide 
an'  a-tellin'  how  smart  he  wuz,  an'  at 
last  he  fetched  a  bill  out  uv  his  pocket 
an'  read  out  loud,  an'  they  laughed  like 
fools  an'  says:  'We'll  beat  Dan'l  a 
million  miles!'  Purty  soon  they  went 
to  sleep,  an'  I  got  up  an'  found  the  bill 
on  the  floor — an'  I  slipped  out — an' 
hyere  I  am.  They're  goin'  to  put  one 
uv  'em  in  every  Trumpet  the  morning 
the  delegates  is  to  be  made  an*  send 
'em  to  the  country.  Spotts  says  he: 
'All  we  have  to  do  is  to  bust  a  hole 
in  this  county.' ' 

[53] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Shanks  unbuttoned  his  coat  and  a 
folded  newspaper  fell  from  round  his 
waist. 

"Let  it  go,  Dan'l.  It's  jist  my  un- 
derwear. 

"Hyere  it  is,"  he  drew  a  folded  slip 
from  the  lower  of  two  vests. 

Philip  read,  then  mopped  his  fore- 
head and  read  aloud  for  the  benefit  of 
the  Colonel: 

"PHILIP   DANIEL   RETIRES 

"At  the  threshold  of  what  promised  to 
be  a  victorious  campaign,  Mr.  Philip 
Daniel  discovers  that  he  is  not  old 
enough  to  go  to  Congress  and  hereby 
authorizes  the  Trumpet  to  announce  his 
retirement  from  the  race. 

"When  seen  last  night,  Mr.  Daniel 
regretted  the  matter,  more  on  account 
of  his  friends  than  anything  else,  and 
said :  *  I  have  no  ambition  now  but  the 
success  of  the  Party,  and  I  believe  that 
it  demands  the  renomination  of  our 

[54] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

faithful  representative.  Therefore  I 
ask  my  friends  to  select  delegates  who 
will  vote  for  Capt.  Philetus  Morrow." 

Philip  gazed  at  his  strange  deliverer 
in  silence,  and  a  smile  painted  his  as- 
tonishment over  into  gratitude.  "God 
bless  you,  Mr.  Shanks!" 

"I'm  fer  you,  Dan'l,  an'  after  you 
win  mebbe  you  kin  help  me  with  my 
claim  ag'in'  the  gov'ment — it's  sacred- 
like,  but  *  Republics  is  ungrateful,'  you 
know.  I  done  sumpin'  onct,  the  like 
o'  which  wuz  never  heerd  tell  uv;  I'll 
give  you  full  charge ;  I'll  make  you  the 
most  talked-uv  man  in  the  United 
States  o'  North  Ameriky!" 

Grasping  the  old  fellow's  hand, 
Philip  declared  with  an  earnestness 
which  betrayed  his  fears:  "I'll  do  any- 
thing I  can!" 

"Then  I'll  see  you  at  my  'stablish- 
ment  at  two  o'clock  the  afternoon  yer 

[55] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

term  begins,"  said  Shanks,  wrapping 
the  folded  newspaper  round  his  waist. 

Something  in  his  optimism  caused 
Philip  to  start. 

"Don't,"  pleaded  Shanks.  "Yer 
lookin'  at  me  now  like  they  all  do.  I'm 
queer,  but  it  ain't  all  the  time — I've  jist 
got  Aprile  weather  in  my  head — it  tilts  a 
little  now  an'  then — I  kin  allus  see  it  corn- 
in'  like  a  squall  over  the  water.  Brain 
gits  dark  an'  wavy-like  an'  rocks  till 
everything  breaks  an'  the  racket  skeers 
the  camels — God  on'y  knows  how  many 
they  is — an'  they  run  round  an'  round 
an'  kick  sand  in  yer  eyes — an'  the  clouds 
git  off  o'  their  rollers  an'  tear  the  leaves 
off  o'  the  trees  an'  knock  the  fruit  down 
'fore it's  ripe.  It's  tumble,  Dan'l,  when 
the  wind  blows  up  frum  the  South!" 

Once  more  he  sprang  to  place  a  hand 
on  Philip's  temple:  "Do  it  ag'in,  Dan'l 
— luk  that  way — no,  you  can't,  I  cahi- 

[56] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

late — it  wuz  round  hyere  like — the  eyes 
— you  lukt  like  him  more'n  ever — 
God  A'mighty,  he  wuz  han'some — 
nuthin'  like  me — favored  his  mother. 

"I've  allus  wondered  what  he'd  'a' 
come  to — it  'ud  'a'  been  sumpin'grand,! 
know,  an'  when  I  read  o'  yer  comin'  out 
fer  Congress,  they  wuz  sumpin'  'bout  you 
that  made  me  think  o'  him,  an'  though  I 
never  seen  you,  I  sez  to  my  ole  dog,  sez 
I:  'Button,  we'll  all  be  fer  Dan'l.'" 

The  mist  suddenly  melted  from  the 
old  man's  mind,  his  eyes  grew  steady, 
and  stepping  forward,  he  placed  both 
hands  on  Philip's  shoulders  and 
smiled,  as  though  he  had  been  playing 
a  part.  When  finally  he  spoke,  it  was 
slowly,  but  with  strange  authority. 

"Dan'l,  you  kin  do  me  a  tumble  fa- 
vor; you  kin  let  me  belong  to  the  worP 
ag'in;  I'm  all  right,  you  see;  let  me  do 
it — nominate  you  fer  Congress — it'll  be 

[57] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

like  doin'  it  fer  him.  I  kin  handle 
that  wind — I  won't  let  it  blow  up  frum 
the  South — 'pon  my  word,  Dan'l ;  I'll 
hold  it  hyere  in  the  hollow  o'  my  hand 
an'  choke  it!"  He  closed  his  fist  till  the 
knuckles  snapped.  "Tell  you  what  I'll 
do!"  His  eyes  lighted  with  triumph. 
"  I'll  have  her  come ;  it  can't  blow  when 
she's  with  me — the  Lord  made  her  to 
order,  Dan'l!" 

He  held  the  lantern  up  before  Philip's 
face  as  though  they  were  standing  in 
the  dark,  and  the  latter  marvelled  at 
the  cry  of  this  old  man's  soul.  He 
seemed  to  hold  it  in  his  hand  to  save  or 
cast  away;  he  looked  into  the  keen, 
gray  eyes  which  now  seemed  to  expand 
and  contract,  and  he  thought  of  an- 
other hermit — one  who  once  led  a 
crusade.  Then  he  did  what  kings  and 
philosophers  have  done  every  day  since 
the  sun  was  made  and  will  do  every  day 

[58] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

till  the  sun  grows  cold — he  did  the 
wildest  thing  in  earth's  fantastic  range 
of  follies — he  chose  an  old  fellow  with 
April  weather  in  his  head  to  place  him 
in  nomination  before  a  great  conven- 
tion, and  as  he  did  so,  the  boards 
creaked  in  the  adjoining  room  and  he 
thought  of  his  campaign  manager — and 
Shanks  was  the  man  he  should  have 
banished  from  his  mind  forever! 

"I  must  go  back!"  declared  the  old 
man,  with  an  enthusiasm  which  laughed 
at  years. 

"No — you  will  go  with  me;  I'll  care 
for  your  beast;"  remonstrated  Philip, 
and  arm  in  arm  they  went  to  the 
American  House. 

Shanks  straightened  till  six  feet  of 
stature  came  strangely  forth  from  the 
odds  and  ends  of  his  body,  then  reg- 
istered in  a  staggering  hand:  "Shanks 
uv  Pisgah  Hill,  formerly  uv  Vicksburg." 

[59] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"Give  my  friend  the  bridal  cham- 
ber," commanded  Philip. 

The  orator  turned  and  clasped  the 
candidate's  hand,  looked  calmly  into 
his  face,  then  smiling,  said:  "Dan'l,  I 
like  you  more  an'  more." 

"I  surrender,"  cried  Philip,  return- 
ing to  the  office. 

"Don't  worry;  he's  saved  us,  we'll 
handle  the  speech  some  way." 

"Do  you  know,  Colonel,  all  the  time 
Shanks  was  talking,  a  memory  kept 
coming  up,  like  a  bubble  from  the  bot- 
tom of  the  sea,  and  it  has  reached  the 
surface  this  very  minute.  Old  Settlers' 
Day  wasn't  the  first  time  I  saw  Shanks ; 
I  saw  you  together  the  first  time  I  saw 
either  of  you.  It  was  the  day  the  Sol- 
diers' Monument  was  unveiled — the 
day  General  Grant  came  to  town.  You 
were  chairman  of  the  meeting,  and 
Shanks  fought  his  way  to  the  stand 

[60] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

and  shook  the  hero's  hand  and  there 
was  a  disturbance  of  some  kind  to  get 
him  away,  and  later,  as  the  crowd  was 
going  home,  he  mounted  the  court- 
house steps  and  began  speaking.  The 
crowd  was  laughing  and  shouting  when 
you  came  and  stood  by  his  side.  You 
were  furious ;  you  waved  your  cane  and 
said  something  like  this:  *  Fellow  citi- 
zens, if  we  must  be  brutal,  let  us  fly  at 
each  other's  throats,  but  let  us  not 
laugh  at  each  other's  infirmities!'  I 
was  reading  fables  then,  and  as  the 
crowd  slunk  away,  you  reminded  me 
of  the  lion  speaking  to  the  wolves." 

:*Yes,  I  remember;  Shanks  was  tell- 
ing his  marvellous  dream  of  the  Civil 
War." 

"That's  what  he  means  by  the  wind 
blowing  up  from  the  South — that's  why 
he  registers  from  Vicksburg?" 

"Yes,  that's  it." 

[61] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"What  unbalanced  him?" 
"That  isn't  exactly  the  word,  Philip." 
"Tell  me  more  of  my  orator." 
"Once   upon  a  time,   there   was   a 
man  who  asked  another  to  forget  all 
about  an  old  fellow  he  saw  in  a  run- 
away and  though  he  didn't  mean  to  do 
it,  that  other  forgot  this  request  and 
made  that  old  man  his  master.     But 
it's  all  right;    I  might  have  done  the 
same  if  he  had  talked  to  me  that  way 
—come,  let's  go ;  it's  only  two  minutes 
till  to-morrow." 

Shanks's  exposure  enabled  Philip  to 
utterly  rout  the  "Ring"  by  exploding 
the  trick  in  a  series  of  public  meetings, 
and  Spotts,  of  the  Trumpet,  left  for  the 
West,  "to  attend  the  bedside  of  a 
favorite  aunt." 

Driving  home  through  the  warm  star- 
light from  the  last  of  these  indignation 

[62] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

rallies,  Philip  grew  nervous  as  they  ap- 
proached Pisgah  Hill.  It  was  the  time 
appointed  to  cancel  the  oratorical  en- 
gagement with  Shanks.  He  and  the 
Colonel  had  lavished  their  ripest  wits 
upon  a  plan.  Through  the  window 
they  saw  the  old  man  engaged  in  an 
earnest  appeal.  A  little  nearer  they 
paused.  He  was  addressing  many  peo- 
ple— more  by  many  hundred  fold  than 
could  have  possibly  crowded  into  his 
little  room,  and  yet  he  was  alone  save 
for  Button,  the  dog,  lying  full  length 
before  the  fireplace. 

There  was  rapt  attention  on  the  part 
of  the  unseen  audience  in  the  buggy. 

After  a  pause,  Shanks  declaimed  his 
speech  again. 

The  sentences  flowed  one  after  the 
other,  even  and  natural  as  waves ;  they 
were  quaint  and  musical  and  full  of 
power,  and  at  the  end  Hardy  said: 

[63] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"Fate  has  sent  you  a  queer  orator,  but 
I  believe  the  best  she  has — drive  on ! 

"I'm  sorry  I  can  never  speak  to  him, 
but  his  place  is  at  the  head  of  the 
column — he  shall  march  by  my  side — 
if  he  will." 

As  they  rolled  past  the  half-open 
door,  Shanks  was  lighting  a  corn-cob 
pipe,  and  after  a  little  while,  when 
Philip  turned,  he  saw  a  tall  figure  stand- 
ing upon  the  portico  of  the  toll-house, 
holding  up  a  queer  tin  lantern. 


[64] 


CHAPTER  IV 

EACH  of  the  four  candidates  re- 
ceived the  solid  support  of  his 
county,  the  two  counties  having 
no  candidates  dividing  their  votes.  A 
great  circus  tent  was  pitched  in  the 
Hilltown  Park  and  head-quarters  were 
at  the  Sunlight  Hotel,  where,  as- 
cending the  stairs,  one's  eye  met  Judge 
Clark's  room,  only  to  be  summoned 
away  by  "Commodore"  Bun's  gayly 
decorated  parlor;  Congressman  Mor- 
row came  next,  and  then  Philip's  pala- 
tial establishment,  where  the  hall  ended 
in  a  wide  arch. 

Morrow  soon  called  upon  Daniel  and 
observed : 

"Wait  and  see   if   these  gentlemen 
merely  wish  to  defeat  me,  as  they  claim." 

[65] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

It  was  so  inspiring;  everybody 
watched  everybody  else. 

Philip  displayed  high  statesmanship 
by  writing  a  speech  behind  a  screen 
while  his  reception  committee  explained 
that  he  was  calling  on  a  blind  man. 
His  masterpiece  began:  "In  a  repub- 
lic, the  office  should  always  seek  the 
man!"  It  was  arranged  for  victory 
or  defeat;  it  was  of  flute-like  construc- 
tion; by  removing  one  piece,  it  turned 
from  an  acceptance  to  an  endorsement 
of  another's  nomination. 

What  a  night  it  was  before  the  battle ! 

There  were  roses  and  flags,  orchestras 

and  glee  clubs,  while  a  sea  of  children 

—most  of  them  prospective  candidates 

—swept  along  with  the  rest.     It  was 

fine  to  recall  incidents  of  the  canvass 

with   scores   who   passed,   and   Philip 

made  a  vote  by  remembering  the  name 

of  an  old  gentleman  and  asking  what 

[66] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

he  received  for  the  load  of  hay  on  top 
of  which  he  had  met  him  six  weeks 
before. 

His  bed  was  a  fitting  period  to  it  all, 
a  thoughtful  partisan  having  draped  it 
with  horseshoes  of  all  descriptions. 

Next  morning's  "specials"  brought 
multitudes,  and  Happyville's  was  glori- 
ous as  it  marched  down  the  hill,  Colonel 
Hardy  and  Shanks  in  the  lead,  swing- 
ing their  canes  like  gallants  out  for  a 
stroll.  Then  came  the  delegates  with 
long  ribbon  badges,  and  after  them 
throngs  of  shouting  friends  from  all 
parties,  interspersed  writh  bands  and 
drum  corps.  On  the  balcony  of  the 
Sunlight,  Philip  reviewed  them  and 
turned  to  Michael  Halfpap  with  thump- 
ing heart: 

"How  handsome  one's  friends  are!" 

"Yes.  And  there's  something  you 
will  never  see  again — that  banner, 

[67] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

*  Daniel  and  Harmony/  and  walking 
behind  it,  side  by  side,  Hardy  and 
Shanks,  who  haven't  spoken  for  forty 
years." 

The  whole  town  soon  surged  one 
way,  and  a  platform  for  two  thousand 
faced  the  delegates,  who  were  sur- 
rounded by  rising  seats. 

Each  candidate  received  a  fine  recep- 
tion, and  the  one  moment  of  harmony — 
the  invocation — was  followed  by  a 
clash  when  Slateman,  one  of  the 
"anti-Morrows,"  was  made  chairman. 

Nominating  speeches  were  eagerly 
awaited,  and  among  the  thousands, 
alert  to  every  phase  of  the  coming 
battle,  there  was  speculation  regarding 
the  identity  of  an  old  gentleman  who 
sat  in  the  front  row  upon  the  stage. 
His  smooth,  eagle  face  was  ashy. 
Thin,  white  hair  fell  over  his  ears,  and 
behind  one  of  them  he  had  hooked  a 

[68] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

long  wisp  which  crossed  his  furrowed 
brow.  The  throat  was  seamed  and 
shrunken  like  an  old  husk.  His  keen 
eyes  sparkled  over  the  fanning,  whis- 
pering multitude;  now  and  then  they 
sought  an  object  across  the  tent,  and 
finding  it,  a  light  would  sweep  his  face. 
That  odd,  long  "Prince  Albert"  coat 
might  have  been  his  wedding  garment. 
Half  collapsed  in  a  chair,  the  white 
vest  rose  above  the  open  collar.  His 
legs  were  crossed,  the  basic  foot  tap- 
ping the  stage,  now  in  time  with  the 
band,  now  with  his  own  lively  fancies. 
The  peculiar  habit  of  knitting  his 
bushy  brows  was  never  more  notice- 
able. Once  a  young  lady  interrupted 
his  meditations  to  tender  a  palm-leaf 
fan,  and  later  another  subjected  him 
to  embarrassment  by  pinning  a  bou- 
quet upon  his  lapel.  In  thanking  her, 
he  blushed  and  bowed  till  the  long 

[69] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

wisp  of  hair  fell  from  behind  his  ear, 
and  in  replacing  it  he  disarranged 
the  entire  mantle  till  it  stood  like 
bristles. 

He  was  flintlock  to  the  core;  he 
seemed  a  kinsman  of  Liberty  Bell. 

Philip  took  the  chair  beside  him. 
"How's  the  speech?" 

"Tol'able."  He  smiled  calmly. 
"Tol'able." 

The  others  were  placed  in  nomina- 
tion, but  it  was  merely  trained  elo- 
quence— a  thing  that  regards  commas 
rather  than  cause. 

"Cass  County!"  the  chairman  called 
at  last. 

Colonel  Hardy  arose  with  dignity 
and  bowed  toward  the  gentleman  in 
the  old  "Prince  Albert"  coat.  "Mr. 
Milton  Shanks  will  speak  for  us." 

The  latter  drew  himself  out  of  the 
chair,  link  by  link;  speculation  ceased; 

[70] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

delegates  and  spectators  arose  and 
cheered;  it  was  the  tribute  of  the  new 
heart  to  the  old. 

Others  had  spoken  with  vehemence, 
but  as  the  tall,  slender  form  straight- 
ened, a  voice  of  grandfatherly  benevo- 
lence came  into  the  atmosphere  of 
strife. 

"Gentlemen  uv  the  Convention: 

"History  'ud  indicate  'at  it's  bin  as 
hard  to  make  a  feller  big  enough  to 
mind  his  own  affairs  as  to  make  a 
Shakespeare,  but  mebbe  tyrants  is  jist 
sent  out  to  wake  nations  up.  We  know 
that  without  the  fellers  we  hate,  we 
wouldn't  'a'  bin  worth  our  salt — we 
wouldn't  V  had  no  spunk." 

The  tone  grew  stronger;  the  right 
hand  left  his  pocket;  the  head  lifted 
with  assurance;  the  convention  leaned 
forward  in  curious  admiration. 

"I'm  glad  England  wuz  tumble. 
[71] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"I  thank  her  fer  the  fire  an*  sense 
o'  '76. 

"I  thank  her  fer  Washin'ton,  in 
whose  eye  hungry  fellers  could  see  a 
country  o'  their  own. 

"An'  so  I'm  glad  the  Union  had  to 
be  saved! 

"It's  not  fer  us  to  ast  empty  sleeves 
if  they  wuz  sincere  ner  women  'at 
prayed  ag'in'  each  other — but  off  with 
our  hats  to  all  that  had  grit." 

He  paused  for  some  seconds. 

;<  You've  made  a  platform — I  could- 
n't hyear  it  all  but  I  know  it's 
right.  The  party  'at's  in  kin  on'y  go 
on,  an'  the  party  'at's  out  kin  on'y  pull 
back — I  cahilate  they're  'bout  the  same, 
but  I  didn't  ust  to. 

"We  want  the  guv'ment  to  do  its 
part  an'  the  folks  to  do  theirn. 

"We  want  a  tariff  to  pertect  us — 
not  to  rob  us. 

[72] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"We  want  a  dollar  worth  a  hundred 
cents. 

"We  want  an  army  like  we've  got 
— one  'at  raises  corn  between  wars — 
not  a  standin'  army — 'at  jist  stands 
around. 

"We  want  a  navy  big  enough  to  let 
us  sleep  in  peace;  I'd  ruther  see  ships 
rust  than  have  a  chimbley  shot  off  o' 
any  hut  by  the  sea — I'd  give  my  'stab- 
lishment  to  wipe  out  the  burnin*  o'  my 
Capitol  a  hundred  year  ago." 

For  the  instant  he  was  a  Spartan, 
then  stepped  forward,  slowly  fanned 
with  the  palm-leaf,  and  solicitude  came 
into  his  voice  as,  with  the  charm  of 
reminiscence,  he  concluded: 

"My  candidate  stands  fer  these 
things;  he's  able;  he  wants  to  go 
ahead;  we  want  him  to,  an'  he  will, 
sure  as  'kingdom  come'! 

"He's  Philip  Dan'l,  o'  Happyville! 

[73] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"I  tole  him  onct  I'd  like  to  see  what 
he'd  come  to  an'  I  hope  you  won't  make 
me  wait  too  long — I'm  seventy-five  las' 
June." 

A  smile  and  the  orator  concluded ;  he 
had  spoken  little  more  than  a  minute. 
From  first  to  last  his  gaze  had  been 
directed  to  a  point  among  the  specta- 
tors, high  above  the  delegates;  his 
eyes  were  riveted  with  such  intensity, 
it  was  as  if  something  there  gave  him 
the  power  of  speech.  As  he  resumed 
a  chair,  the  silence  which  had  attended 
him  seemed  to  increase,  then  it  was 
indescribable.  As  they  cheered  on, 
refusing  to  be  silenced  by  the  bands, 
the  venerable  gentleman  merely  knitted 
his  brows  and  kept  time,  then  half 
covered  his  face  with  a  toil-knotted 
hand. 

"Glorious!"  Philip  shouted,  placing 
his  hand  to  the  hero's  ear. 

[74] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"Luk  way  out  yander  by  that  pole, 
Dan'l ! "  he  replied,  pointing  a  long,  bony 
finger,  whereupon  a  woman  in  a  deep 
poke-bonnet  waved  a  handkerchief. 

"She  done  it,  Dan'l — she  kep'  that 
wind  off  o'  me ! " 

"Who  in  the  world?" 

"My  gran'mother,  Dan'l."  A  smile 
flickered  round  the  old  man's  mouth. 

"I  must  meet  her!" 

"Not  now, Dan'l — some  time,mebbe. 
Whur's  my  hat  ? — they's  a  train — I  can't 
do  nuthin  hyere  an'  I  can't  stan'  this 
infernal  racket!" 

The  applause  was  ebbing  away  as  he 
and  the  woman  in  the  poke-bonnet 
arose. 

"Remember,  Dan'l — that  claim — 
two  o'clock  sharp,  the  day  yer  term 
begins." 

The  Happyville  delegates  gave  the 
old  fellow  an  ovation  as  he  passed,  and 

[75] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

there  was  an  incident  noted  only  by  a 
few — Colonel  Hardy  extended  his  hand 
and  Shanks  grasped  it  with  surprise. 
For  a  second  they  gazed  silently  into 
each  other's  faces,  then  Shanks  went  on. 
At  the  edge  of  the  crowd  the  woman 
in  the  poke-bonnet  took  his  arm. 

Then  the  tent  was  suddenly  touched 
with  magic;  to  its  most  interested  soul, 
he  whose  future  lay  in  its  hand,  this 
thousand-tongued  monster,  called  a 
convention,  which  played  with  human 
plans,  was  strangely  hushed.  Heads, 
voices,  flags,  hopes,  were  instantly  re- 
solved into  merest  specks  floating  in  a 
shaft  of  radiance  flashing  in  upon  the 
stage.  The  woman  in  the  poke-bonnet 
loosened  its  strings  as  if  to  cool  her 
throat,  then  she  pushed  it  half  back 
as  if  to  tempt  the  sun  from  fields  less 
golden,  and  it  hurried  down  to  ripple 
in  her  hair  and  gild  the  anxious  beauty 

[76] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

of  her  girlish  face.  She  clung  to  the 
scene  by  the  last  finger-tip  till  Shanks 
impatiently  tapped  her  arm,  and  then 
the  Incomparable  waved  farewell  to  the 
Hope  of  Happyville. 

There  was  little  difference  among  the 
votes.  The  day  was  wTarm;  the  sides 
of  the  tent  walled  with  people;  ice- 
water  and  fan  merchants  prospered, 
and  men  removed  their  coats  when 
Slateman  made  a  facetious  ruling  on 
the  subject.  For  the  first  hour  there 
was  anxiety,  but  after  fifty  ballots  the 
crowd  leaned  back  for  a  tug-of-war. 

Finally  Colonel  Hardy  mounted  a 
chair. 

"For  what  purpose  does  the  gentle- 
man rise?"  demanded  Slateman. 

"To  explain  what  we  are  about  to 
do." 

A  whisper  flashed  round  the  tent — 
"Morrow  has  won — Clark  and  Bun 

[77] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

are  to  be  punished  for  not  having 
nominated  Daniel." 

"We  are  devoted  to  our  candidate," 
Hardy  began,  "but  so  are  other  gentle- 
men, and  having  cast  the  solid  vote  of 
this  county  not  one  but  one  hundred 
times,  we  feel " 

"Don't  you  dare!"  shouted  a  spec- 
tator, shaking  his  fist  and  starting  gen- 
eral clamor. 

Without  looking,  Philip  knew  that 
Morrow  was  smiling,  and  in  the  distance 
saw  radiant  "Ringsters"  from  home. 

The  decision  must  be  unanimous; 
none  of  the  delegates  would  look  toward 
the  stage. 

Colonel  Hardy  stood  as  if  posing,  and 
when  the  tumult  subsided,  concluded 
his  remarks: 

"I  was  about  to  say,  Mr.  Chairman, 
we  have  decided  to  vote  for  Philip 
Daniel  a  million  times  if  necessary!" 

[78] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

The  demonstration  which  greeted 
Hardy  rivalled  that  accorded  his  an- 
cient foe. 

After  a  while  the  gavel  was  yielded 
to  different  vice-chairmen,  and  when 
thus  honored,  Judge  Sims,  a  Morrow 
leader,  promised  to  end  the  deadlock 
at  once.  "It  is  very  easy,"  he  de- 
clared. "Let  us  cast  our  united  votes 
for  Captain  Philetus  Morrow!" 

For  an  instant  it  was  blinding,  then 
all  stood  and  howled,  the  more  enraged 
overturning  benches  in  an  effort  to 
reach  the  stage.  With  blanched  face, 
the  judge  protested,  but  neither  man 
nor  gavel  could  be  heard  and  riot  was 
imminent,  when  Slateman  scrambled 
over  the  mass  and  resumed  the  chair. 

Without  looking,  Philip  knew  that 
Morrow  was  not  smiling. 

With  the  five-hundredth  ballot,  a 
band  played  "Hot  Time,"  and  every- 

[79] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

body  arose  and  stretched  and  sang. 
The  lights  blazed  and  received  a  cheer. 

Then  the  wind  lifted  the  tent  in  great 
billows,  lightning  flashed;  the  sultry 
day's  prophecy  was  being  fulfilled. 

Despite  volunteers  clinging  to  them, 
great  poles  leaped  into  the  air,  crash- 
ing the  arc  lamps,  rain  streamed 
through  the  canvas,  and  thousands 
stood,  holding  chairs  above  their  heads. 

A  delegate  moved  to  adjourn,  but  a 
band  quickly  struck  up:  "We  won't 
go  home  till  morning." 

But  for  lightning  the  tent  was  long 
dark,  yet  nobody  left  and  it  was  lively 
with  song  and  burlesque,  the  latter 
including  mock  speeches  of  withdrawal 
for  all  candidates. 

Business  resumed  with  a  vote  of 
thanks  for  the  "rain-proof"  shelter, 
and  the  struggle  lasted  till  three  hours 
past  midnight,  when  adjournment  was 

[80] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

taken,  Philip's  memory  returning  to  the 
day  Judge  Clark  and  "Commodore" 
Bun  had  explained  their  real  desire  to 
be  the  defeat  of  Congressman  Morrow. 

The  "Sunlight"  was  carpeted  with 
patriots;  Colonel  Hardy  slept  at  the 
jail,  and  the  occupants  of  Philip's  bed 
were  exceeded  only  by  its  horseshoes. 

It  seemed  but  a  wink  till,  waking,  the 
young  candidate  found  the  room  filled 
with  smoke  and  stratagem. 

"How  do  you  feel  ?"  asked  the  dele- 
gates. 

"The  outlook  is  perfect — but  you 
gentlemen  are  free." 

Then  an  old  farmer  took  the  floor 
and  determined  the  programme. 

"I've  had  two  hours'  sleep  in  the 
band-stand  at  the  park  and  I'm  fresh 
as  a  daisy;  I  move  that  we  never  quit 
votin'  and  that  every  'mother's  son  of 
us'  march  into  that  tent  with  jaws 

[81] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

clamped  so  everybody  can  read  a  dec- 
laration of  war!" 

The  chaplain  of  the  second  session 
must  have  expected  to  officiate  at  the 
first,  else  he  would  not  have  implored 
the  delegates  to  "approach  their  task 
with  deliberation." 

The  balloting  started  as  before.  In 
a  few  minutes,  Colonel  Hardy  rushed 
down  the  main  aisle  with  upraised 
cane,  after  a  pickpocket  who  had  robbed 
him  of  one  hundred  dollars.  In  hot 
pursuit  he  turned  at  the  edge  of  the  tent 
in  time  to  see  a  disloyal  alternate  dele- 
gate, empowered  to  vote  in  his  absence, 
slipping  into  his  chair  to  break  the  dele- 
gation. A  longing  glance  at  the  fading 
thief  and  Hardy  rushed  back  to  seize 
the  alternate  by  the  collar  and  remove 
him  to  a  place  of  safety. 

After  an  hour,  Judge  Clark  and 
"Commodore"  Bun  suggested  that 

[82] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Philip  cast  lots  with  them,  but  believ- 
ing his  prospects  brightening,  he  spurned 
the  proposal  on  "high  moral  grounds." 
The  two  then  decided  to  give  each  other 
a  combined  vote,  but  gesticulated  so 
earnestly  in  determining  who  should 
receive  it  first,  that  a  dog  filled  the  tent 
with  vociferous  barking.  The  result 
was  ineffectual,  and  after  being  tossed 
back  and  forth,  the  delegates  were  dan- 
gerous to  trifle  with. 

Clark  and  Bun  retired  for  consulta- 
tion; there  was  no  sign,  but  the  air 
grew  suddenly  electric;  thousands 
stood. 

"Prepare  for  the  ten-hundred-and 
twelfth  ballot,"  slowly  called  Slateman. 

"Baxter"  County  failed  to  get  the 
word  in  time  to  vote  for  Daniel — there 
were  few  delegates  to  spare  and  an- 
other ballot  might  be  fatal. 

"Cass  County." 

[83] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Colonel  Hardy  announced  Philip's 
twenty-two  as  if  nothing  could  possibly 
be  important. 

Sixty-nine  were  needed. 

*  *  Greene  County. "  It  remained  with 
Morrow. 

"Hunter  County."  These  were  Bun's 
delegates. 

"Twenty-one  votes  for  Daniel." 

A  band  started  to  play,  but  was 
silenced. 

"Maumee  County." 

"Ten  for  Daniel." 

Baxter  and  Maumee  started  a  pro- 
cession which  Cass  and  Hunter  joined, 
planting  their  standards  with  Judge 
Clark's  delegation,  whose  votes  would 
be  decisive. 

"Washington  County." 

Its  chairman,  with  words  of  fate, 
mounted  a  table,  and  a  half-frantic 
throng  lifted  it  to  their  shoulders. 

[84] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"Washington  County  gives  Philip 
Daniel  twenty  votes — all  she  has — and 
nominates  him  for  Congress!" 

Countless  flags  appeared,  decora- 
tions were  stripped  from  pole  and  side 
wall;  all  the  bands  and  drum  corps 
played  at  once;  Philip  was  lifted  upon 
the  shoulders  of  wild  men;  delegates 
marched  together;  former  rivals  threw 
their  arms  around  each  other,  and  the 
defeated  candidates  pinned  Daniel 
badges  upon  their  coats  and  made  the 
result  unanimous. 

All  the  way  home,  musically  inclined 
gentlemen  "Marched  through  Geor- 
gia," and  though  Philip  needed  ironing, 
handshaking  continued  till  the  train 
rounded  the  cliff  into  Happyville,  when 
out  of  the  falling  night  issued  strange 
lights  and  then  a  wonderful  serpent  of 
gold  wriggled  high  above  the  steeples, 
where  its  head  burst  into  countless  stars. 

[85] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Half  carried  to  where  the  old  family 
horse  leaped  with  fear,  the  nominee 
was  pitched  into  the  saddle. 

Clear  to  the  Soldiers'  Monument  it 
was  a  range  of  flame  and  color,  and 
like  a  snow-storm  turned  to  gold, 
a  sea  of  flakes  sifted  through  the 
purple  air.  Along  the  curbs,  streams 
of  changing  fires  burned  even  with 
the  advancing  hosts.  Wagon  batteries 
hissed;  every  belfry  rang  its  greeting; 
whistles  added  to  the  pandemonium 
till  no  sounds  were  distinguishable, 
save  those  of  minute-guns  at  the  west- 
ern point  of  the  cliff.  There  was  no 
order,  nor  should  have  been.  There 
they  were — smiling,  singing,  shout- 
ing, dancing;  Republicans,  Demo- 
crats, Populists,  Prohibitionists;  whites, 
blacks,  preachers,  pagans — everybody 
— the  town,  upside  down — beside  her- 
self— wild ! 

[86] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Above  heads  so  closely  packed  it 
seemed  the  part  of  ease  to  walk  upon 
them,  floated  the  day's  transparencies, 
and  the  faithful  delegation  required 
protection  from  its  friends. 

Philip  was  constantly  turning  in  re- 
sponse to  the  tempest  of  greetings,  but 
in  looking  for  one  face,  he  but  half  saw 
the  thousands.  First  he  sought  it  along 
the  wall  of  the  "Old  Cemetery,"  now 
whiter  with  its  dresses  than  its  mar- 
bles; then  his  eyes  swept  the  library 
steps — the  high  school;  they  searched 
the  painted,  undulating,  half-delirious 
throng  on  every  side — but  in  vain. 

Once  there  was  danger  of  a  panic;  it 
was  when  the  street- wide  torrent  surged 
before  the  high  banks  of  Philip's  home, 
a  rambling,  white  house — a  light  in 
every  window — in  the  midst  of  gnarled 
and  twisted  apple-trees,  now  hung  with 
paper  lanterns. 

[87] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

The  doors  were  open;  children  ran 
through  the  wide  hall  and  out  upon  the 
high  portico,  an  endless  line  brought 
greetings  to  a  time-silvered  soul  and 
were  repaid  with  wit  and  smile  which 
had  gone  up  years  as  steep  as  slant, 
toward  heaven's  grace. 

The  instinctive  gallantry  of  the  mul- 
titude responded;  the  man  on  horse- 
back was  forgotten;  the  home-coming 
paused  while  this  woman  in  black  silk 
and  white  lace,  with  rocking-chair  for 
throne,  held  her  court  where  a  flag 
rippled  above  and  honeysuckle  flung 
its  fragrance  away  as  if  in  its  last 
blooming  hour. 

None  of  the  white-dressed  throng 
were  more  animated;  nothing  escaped 
her;  indeed,  she  found  time  to  wander 
a  lifetime  away  where  there  were  cov- 
ered wagons  and  deer,  and  later  a  day 
when  soldiers  had  come  home  from  a 

[88] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

great  war.  Yes,  it  was  like  that — only 
all  were  happy  to-night. 

Into  her  arms  a  child  now  placed  a 
sheaf  of  roses  as  red  as  Nature's  blood 
could  make ;  her  face  grew  radiant,  and 
rising,  she  waved  them  like  a  girl.  The 
crowd  was  hushed — and  the  old  horse 
tried  to  leave  the  procession. 

On  to  the  court-house  they  swept, 
where  every  hero  had  to  speak.  They 
were  reluctant  to  disperse  and  rockets 
shot  over  into  another  day. 

A  few  neighbors  were  waiting  when 
Philip  and  Michael  reached  the  Daniel 
home. 

"I'm  so  thankful  to  the  good  Lord 
that  it  came  in  my  time,"  said  the  Lady 
of  the  Portico,  coming  down  the  steps 
to  meet  them. 

"I  feel  as  if  I  wanted  to  do  some- 
thing for  everybody  as  everybody  has 
done  for  us.  But  come  along  to  the 

[89] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

dining-room — I  must  show  you  some- 
thing." 

The  table  was  heaped  with  flowers. 

"Isn't  it  divine  to  be  alive!"  ex- 
claimed Halfpap. 

"Yes— but  see!"  She  held  up  the 
wonderful  sheaf  of  red  roses. 

"There's  the  strangest  card  some- 
where with  no  name  to  it,  but  it's  a 
woman's  hand.  Oh,  here  it  is,  listen — 
'For  Demosthenes's  mother.'  Now, 
who  in  all  this  broad  land  do  you  sup- 
pose— why,  Philip,  what's  the  matter  ?  " 


[90] 


CHAPTER  V 

HAPPYVILLE  did  not  set  its 
alarm-clock  for  next  morning 
and  veteran  compatriots  of  the 
lark  slept  till  nine  o'clock.  It  is  not 
extravagant  to  affirm  that  such  whole- 
sale pillow  depravity  had  never  held 
the  place  in  its  clutches.  One  inhabi- 
tant, however,  stirred  earlier  than  usual. 
His  eyes  opened  upon  a  new  world; 
the  day  came  out  of  the  east  eagerly 
as  delight,  and  entering  Philip's  bed- 
room, roused  the  roses  of  its  faded 
wall-paper  to  former  brightness.  That 
wraking  was  worth  all  his  life  before. 
He  had  drifted  from  a  dream  of 
silver  into  a  dawn  of  gold;  it  was 
like  a  thousand  mornings  bidding 
him  to  old  fishing- trips ;  it  was  pris- 

[91] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

matic  as  ecstasy;  fragrant  of  fulfil- 
ment. Actuality  walked  through  his 
brain  like  a  lord;  repressed  long- 
ings thronged  forth  to  claim  their 
own,  and  out  from  her  mystic 
treasure-house,  Memory  flung  the 
treasured  visions  of  days  gone  by. 
The  light,  stretching  in  a  shutter 
pattern  across  the  floor,  had  a  sun- 
beam from  every  happy  hour  he  had 
known;  he  was  at  once  all  ages  he 
had  ever  been. 

From  fine  excess  he  stretched  and 
said:  "He  was  a  prophet  who  called 
this  Happyville." 

With  that  license  so  common  in  a 
republic,  a  fly  made  bold  to  light  upon 
the  youthful  statesman's  face,  and  he 
brushed  it  aside  with  a  gentleness  which 
the  philosopher  could  have  ascribed  to 
nothing  less  than  the  chastening  touch 
of  an  abiding  love. 

[92] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

A  newsboy's  cry  came  up  from  the 
street:  "Extra  Trumpet — all  about  the 
convention — all  about  Daniel!" 

"Fame,"  he  murmured,  smiling. 

The  wonderful  sheaf  of  red  roses  was 
in  the  centre  of  the  table  and  the  Lady 
of  the  Portico  wore  her  silvery  crown 
more  lightly  than  ever.  Breakfast 
passed  with  radiant  glances — flowers 
of  understanding  which  jest  at  words. 

He  was  two  hours  in  reaching  his 
office;  every  gate  had  its  waiting  group, 
and  as  he  sped  along  on  air,  little  chil- 
dren whispered:  "There  he  goes!" 

Beneath  the  slanting  glass  roof,  a 
throng  of  admirers  awaited. 

With  thoughts  swarming  about  a 
poke-bonnet,  he  reflected : "  Why  wait  till 
my  term  begins  ?  I'll  take  up  Shanks's 
claim  this  very  day!" 

Up  the  sidewalk,  a  newspaper,  widely 
opened,  diverted  pedestrians  from  their 

[93] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

course,  and  behind  it  walked  the  War- 
wick of  Happyville. 

"Advance  and  give  the  counter- 
sign!" called  Philip. 

"Which  way?"  inquired  Colonel 
Hardy. 

"Pisgah!" 

"Why,  you're  not  due  till  next 
March!" 

"I  know,  but  after  that  speech  of 
Shanks's,  I  feel  it  my  duty  to " 

"Tut,  tut,  Philip."  The  Colonel's 
penetrating  eye  punctured  the  explana- 
tion. "Go  ahead.  But  wait,  I'm  go- 
ing to  *  surprise'  you  to-night — a  little 
supper  at  my  room — just  twenty-five 
of  the  'Old  Guard.'"  A  few  steps 
more  and  the  Colonel  turned. 

"Damn  it,  Philip,  give  Shanks  my  re- 
gards and  tell  him  to  come  to  the  party !" 

He  would  find  them  just  in  time  for 
dinner,  Philip  reflected,  spinning  out 

[94] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

of  town  like  a  courier.  He  would  sit 
at  the  Incomparable's  right,  of  course; 
she  would  be  looking  for  him  as  surely 
as  April  looks  for  rain.  He  carefully 
surveyed  his  new  clothes;  the  elegance 
of  four  generations  looked  down  upon 
him,  from  the  old  watch  with  gold  face 
and  massive  chain  to  the  rose  which 
he  had  plucked  from  the  wonderful 
sheaf.  He  would  hear  Shanks's  story 
as  soon  as  possible,  and  take  the  In- 
comparable for  a  drive.  She  had  in- 
spired him  with  ambition;  she  had 
enabled  Shanks  to  win  laurels  as  his 
orator;  the  thread  of  her  life  had  been 
woven  into  the  fabric  of  his  own  in  a 
fashion  as  beautiful  as  it  was  mysteri- 
ous— and  had  he  not  won  her  on  Old 
Settlers'  Day,  when  he  pulled  that  wish- 
bone with  Fate  ? 

He  dusted  his  eloquence  and  resolved 
to  do  or  die  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  where 

[95] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Pigeon  Creek  splashed  through  sharp 
rocks  and  steep  banks  waved  with  ferns 
and  columbine.  Should  he  do  it  while 
driving  out  or  back?  That  would  be 
for  mature  reflection — every  step  must 
evolve  its  own  strategy.  Most  likely 
she  would  come  to  the  door.  Should 
he  call  her  Christian  name?  What 
was  it  ? — what  was  her  surname  ? 

He  grew  exceedingly  hot. 

While  dining,  should  he  appear 
blithe  or  pensive?  He  decided  to  be 
blithe;  this  would  inspire  the  instinct 
of  unrest  and  enable  him  by  light- 
ning gallantry  in  the  buggy  to  storm 
the  violet  battlements  and  plant  the 
frayed  banner  of  affection  where  rapt- 
ure would  nestle  in  its  folds  forever- 
more. 

He  snapped  the  whip  at  a  bumble- 
bee. 

Who  in  the  world  was  she  ? 

[96] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

He  grew  exceedingly  cold. 

After  all,  that  was  merely  incidental ; 
they  had  loved  each  other  always — he 
had  seen  her  twice.  It  would  be  far 
different  if  they  were  strangers — if  he 
had  seen  her  only  once. 

How  should  he  begin?  There  was 
a  line  in  the  "Rubaiyat"  which  he 
liked;  still,  her  Christian  teaching 
might  find  offence  in  that  rhapsody  of 
doubt.  Again,  she  might  be  familiar 
with  the  passage  and  he  was  uncertain 
just  how  it  ran! 

Nearing  the  destination,  he  saw  a 
house  in  course  of  construction.  Of 
course — he  would  start  with  a  discus- 
sion of  architecture,  declaring  for  a 
colonial  porch  and  a  hall  in  the  centre. 
Moonlit  hours  with  gentle  souls  had 
convinced  him  that  they  leaned  Colo- 
nially.  In  the  event  she  preferred 
"Queen  Anne,"  he  would  yield — yes, 

[97] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

she  could  even  have  alcoves!  Then 
he  would  touch  lightly  on  Fate,  thus 
turning  the  edge  of  impulsive  haste — 
everybody  knew  how  busy  Fate  was. 

Most  of  the  toll-houses  were  gone, 
their  common  end  being  to  serve  the 
highest  bidder  for  smoke-house  or 
summer  kitchen,  but  the  one  at  Pisgah 
had  survived  the  advent  of  free  roads. 
From  down  the  pike,  Philip  saw  Shanks 
sitting  beneath  the  landmark's  pro- 
jecting beak.  He  was  smoking  a  pipe, 
and  a  rusty  cat  made  endless  figure 
eights  around  his  carpet  slippers.  A 
rickety  bench  leaned  against  the  shack ; 
the  porch  floor  was  filled  with  splinters, 
and  wide  cracks  facilitated  the  cricket 
serenade  beneath.  The  pipe  had  that 
potency  which  age  alone  imparts  to 
human  institutions.  It  would  have 
been  difficult  for  the  Hilltown  conven- 
ts] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

tion  to  recognize  its  orator;  the  splen- 
dor of  two  days  before  was  hopelessly 
lost.  Brown  trouser-legs  extended  be- 
neath others  which  once  were  gray,  and 
the  vests  were  buttoned  alternately  or 
not  at  all.  Over  these  was  a  cordu- 
roy coat  which  the  true  hunter  wears 
whether  afield  or  asleep.  There  was  a 
sartorial  happiness  in  this  heap  of  yes- 
terdays, never  found  in  a  parlor,  since 
one  could  not  imagine  wearer  and  gar- 
ments as  ever  apart,  while  any  addi- 
tion— a  cravat,  for  instance,  round  his 
standing  flannel  collar — would  have 
been  as  grotesque  as  a  skirt  upon  the 
shell-bark  hickory  tree  across  the  road. 
Philip  had  pictured  the  old  man  as 
he  had  sat  upon  the  stage,  and  this 
transformation  filled  him  with  strange 
disappointment.  Standing  in  momen- 
tary contemplation,  he  had  a  sudden 
dread,  for  not  only  had  the  daguerro- 

[99] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

type  become  the  scrap-pile,  but  some- 
thing gray  flitting  over  the  nervous  face 
warned  him  that  the  "wind  was  blow- 
ing from  the  south." 

All  was  silent  within  the  house;  a 
cloud  passed  over  Philip's  spirits — the 
Incomparable  had  not  expected  him. 

Inserting  a  thumb  into  the  bowl  of 
his  pipe  and  puffing  vigorously,  Shanks 
plunged  into  the  issue  at  hand. 

"  Wheat's  jumpin';  you  kin  'most  see 
it;  warm  rain  last  night;  blackbirds  bin 
a-kitin'  north  all  day;  glad  it's  spring, 
Dan'l;  older  a  feller  gits,  gladder  he's 
apt  to  be. 

"Settin'  out  hyere  a-smokin*  like 
makes  me  think  o'  Vicksburg — it's  all 
as  fresh  as  yisterday.  You  see,  I'd  bin 
a-settin'  round  waitin'  fer  Grant  to  do 
sumpin',  an'  fin'ly  I  sez  to  myself:  'If 
anything's  did  hyere,  Shanks,  you'll  haf 
to  do  it  yerself.' 

[100] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"I  didn't  want  to  be  hard  on  Grant 
an*  I  sez,  easy-like:  'Why  you  bin 
f  oolin'  round  ? ' 

"I  recollec'  how  he  turned;  he  wuz 
a-settin'  on  a  camp-stool;  an*  sez  he: 
*  Shanks,  what  do  you  cahilate?' 

"Tddosumpin'!'  sez  I. 

"He  smoked  on  a  bit,  but  I  seen  that 
it  took  holt  like,  an'  he  up  an'  sez  he: 
'My  God,  Shanks,  why  ain't  you  tole 
me  this  'fore  now  ? — it's  the  on'y  plan ! ' 

"Well,  I  went  back  expectin'  big 
things,  but  nuthin*  wuz  did,  an'  there  I 
wuz  'a-champin'  o'  the  bit,'  as  the  feller 
sez,  an'  I  went  back,  an'  'fore  I  could 
say  a  word,  Grant  up  ag'in  an'  sez  he : 
'Shanks,  I'm  cahilatin'  hard — gimme 
three  days — I  won't  ast  'nuther  favor.' 

"An'  so  time  went  by  an'  nuthin' 
come  of  it,  an'  at  last,  one  day  'fore  sun- 
up, I  put  on  my  hat  an'  walked  out  o* 
camp  an'  kep'  on  goin'  till  there  I  wuz 
[ion 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

in  front  o'  Vicksburg — an*  then  the 
whole  shebang  blazed  away;  they  wuz 
shells  an'  minies  an'  chain-shot,  an' 
one  of  'em  tuk  off  my  hat. 

"I  never  knowed  what  fear  wuz — 
Shankses  wuz  all  that  way,  never 
much  fer  money  but  a  heap  fer  spunk 
— an'  sez  I  to  myself:  'I'll  jist  let  'em 
egshaust  their  amminition.' 

"But  the  Johnnies  seen  my  scheme 
an'  things  quieted  down  till  they  wuzn't 
more'n  fifty  guns  a-trained  on  me,  I 
cahilate,  an'  then  a  signal  went  up 
frum  Vicksburg  a-sayin':  *  Cease  firin' 
— it's  Shanks  hisself!' 

"Well,  I  set  down,  an'  purty  soon  a 
passel  o'  fellers  come  a-ridin'  out  o' 
the  town  an'  I  up  an'  rekonized  Pem- 
berton — Gin'rul,  you  know — an'  when 
he  got  within  talkin'  range,  he  up  an' 
sez  he:  *  Shanks,  ain't  it  'bout  time  me 
an'  you  wuz  endin'  this  ?' 

[102] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"I  wanted  to  feel  him  out,  an'  a- 
drawin'  myself  up,  sez  I:  'Pemberton, 
you  ain't  a  bad  feller,  but  if  you  don't 
end  it  quick,  I'm  goin'  to  do  sumpin'.' 

"Lordy,  how  it  bit  him — bit  him  to 
the  quick — an*  sez  he:  *  Shanks,  don't 
hit  a  feller  when  he's  down — yer  plan's 
the  on'y  one  I  been  afeerd  uv,  an* 
I  cahilate  they's  nuthin'  left  but  to 
give  up.' 

"'I'd  'a'  tole  you  as  much,'  sez  I — 
'on'y  I  wuz  afeerd  you'd  think  I  wuz 
prejudiced  like.' 

"Fin'ly  he  up  an'  sez  he:  'Shanks,  I 
allus  noticed  you  don't  carry  no  staff — 
the  boys  has  of'en  wondered  why  it 
wuz.' 

'Well,'  sez  I,  'if  you  want  to  go 
some'er's,  you  allus  haf  to  wait  fer  'em 
to  fix  up,  an'  then  ag'in  they  make  too 
much  racket — I  do  my  best  work  a- 
slippin'  round — a-bein'  at  large  like.' 

[103] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"'I  never  seen  it  that  way  'fore  now/ 
sez  he. 

"An*  he  called  up  a  saplin'  all 
covered  with  fancy-work,  an'  sez  he: 
'Tell  the  whole  pack  to  clear  out.' 

"Then  I  heerd  sumpin',  an'  we  got 
up  an'  looked  behind  some  bushes  an' 
there  stood  Grant.  Mad!  Well,  I 
cahilate. 

"'  Grant,'  sez  I,  'you  don't  do  nuthin' 
but  smoke,  an'  then  you  hang  round 
wrhen  some  other  feller  tries  to  do 
sumpin'.' 

"He  got  red  like.  'Shanks,'  sez  he, 
'I  don't  want  no  hard  feelin's;  I  jist 
come  out  to  look  fer  you.  We  knowed 
you'd  keep  on  a-goin'  an'  the  army  got 
skeered  bein'  left  alone — but  I  don't 
want  to  interrup'  yer  conversation  with 
yer  friend.' 

"I  had  to  interduce  him;  Pember- 
ton  didn't  ketch  the  name  at  first;  then 

[104] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

I  give  Grant  a  luk  an'  he  walked 
off  a  piece  an'  stood  there  a-hackin' 
jimpson  weeds  with  his  sword,  an' 
then  he  called  me  over.  *  Shanks,' 
sez  he,  *I  bin  a-thinkin'  if  yer  goin' 
to  do  sumpin'  mebbe  you'd  better 
take  my  badge.'  But  I  wouldn't  tech 
it — no,  sir! 

"When  we  wuz  alone,  Pemberton 
sez  he :  *  I  bin  a-diggin'  with  that  army 
till  I've  got  'tached  to  it — but,'  sez  he, 
'it  'pears  like  rain — let's  call  the  whole 
business  off!' 

"An*  we  shuk  hands. 

"When  I  wuz  off  'bout  forty  rod,  he 
called  back  an'  sez  he :  '  Shanks,  would 
it  be  legal  uv  a  public  holiday  ? ' 

"An*  that's  how  we  fixed  the  Fourth 
o'  July." 

Throughout  the  recital,  Philip  had 
listened  with  an  ear  bent  toward  the 
half-open  door,  but  all  was  silent. 

[105] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Shanks  refilled  his  pipe  and  re- 
sumed: "I  wouldn't  take  his  sword. 
I'll  never  fergit  how  that  fetched  him; 
he  choked  up  like  an'  sez  he:  'Shanks, 
yer  more'n  a  man  o'  action ;  yer  a  man 
o'  feelin's ;  I'd  like  to  have  you  know 
my  folks.' 

"An'  that's  my  claim,  Dan'l.  I  ain't 
heerd  a  word  uv  it  fer  a  long  time — 
Presidents  all  seem  to  have  sumpin' 
ag'in'  me  personal  like — I  give  you  full 
charge — an'  that's  all." 

Philip  surveyed  him  sadly  and 
promised  to  do  his  best,  then  he  arose 
and  delivered  Colonel  Hardy's  invita- 
tion to  the  "surprise  party,"  but  Shanks 
shook  his  head  and  grew  suddenly  ab- 
sorbed in  a  newspaper. 

"You've  lived  here  a  Idng  time  ?" 

"Yep,  quite  a  spell,"  came  the 
answer  from  behind  the  sheet. 

"Isn't   it   rather   lonesome?"     The 

[106] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

young  man  trembled  at  this  question 
calculated  to  answer  his  own  misgiv- 
ings. 

"We've  never  noticed  it,  I  cahilate." 

The  voice  was  inclined  to  be  sharp, 
but  a  glow  ran  through  Philip's  heart — 
she  was  there! 

He  resumed  the  chair,  then  grew 
gallant  and  rather  loud. 

"Of  course,  with  such  a  companion, 
one  would  never  care  to  see  anybody 
else!" 

Shanks  lowered  the  paper  and  knitted 
his  white  brows  half  diviningly. 

"Just  you  two?"  persisted  Philip, 
wishing  to  divert  the  searching  eyes. 

"Yep — jist  me  an'  my — my  private 
sec'etary." 

Something  less  than  color  swept  the 
aged  face  and  his  gaze  kindled  with  the 
kindliest  light  of  the  day.  Shanks  was 
evidently  pleased  with  this  new  desig- 

[107] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

nation  of  the  Incomparable,  and  as  for 
himself,  Philip  preferred  it  to  that  of 
"grandmother." 

With  half  a  smile  he  added:  "'Scuse 
me,  Dan'l,  I'll  interduce  you." 

Then  he  laid  bare  every  nerve  in 
Philip's  body;  there  was  an  impulse 
to  redress  the  affront — Shanks  irrever- 
ently whistled  for  his  private  secretary. 

A  rasping  spring  behind  him  an- 
nounced the  opening  screen  door;  his 
heart  leaped — at  last  he  was  to  meet 
the  dearest  mortal  in  the  world;  he 
arose  with  burning  cheek  and  turned — 
but  only  to  clutch  the  post  and  gasp,  and 
greet  a  shambling,  liver-dotted  hound 
with  frigid  snout  and  ears  like  palm-leaf 
fans.  The  animal  rapped  for  order, 
his  air  bespeaking  apology  for  having 
detained  the  conference;  the  rusty  cat 
weighing  such  professions  of  amity 
with  fine  care,  then  resuming  her  task 

[108] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

with  arched  back  and  stiffness  of 
tread. 

Shanks  commanded :  "  Button,  shake 
hands  with  yer  Congressman." 

The  old  dog  slanted  his  head,  turned 
a  protesting  eye  toward  Philip,  and 
wearily  lifted  the  left  paw  in  perform- 
ance of  his  solitary  trick. 

"He's  very  bright — you  should  be 
proud  of  him,"  he  managed  to  observe. 

Shanks  leaned  forward  and  peered 
into  the  pale  face  before  him,  and  then, 
as  if  satisfied  with  the  result  of  the 
investigation,  turned  and  rocked  vigor- 
ously. 

As  Philip  arose,  the  "Hero  of  Vicks- 
burg"  looked  far  away  and  slowly  said: 

"I  druv  her  off,  Dan'l — she  won't 
come  back  no  more — never!" 

"Won't  you  tell  me  something  more 
— just  a  word?" 

Shanks  shook  his  head.     "I  can't, 

[109] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Dan'l. — An'    'bout    my    claim — let    it 
go  till  yer  term  begins." 

He  went  inside  and  closed  the  door. 

Colonel  Hardy  had  lived  at  the 
American  House  ever  since  a  death 
long  before,  and  this  night  his  rooms 
were  thrown  together,  and  the  table 
graced  with  old  linen,  china,  and  silver 
unpacked  for  the  first  time  since  they 
were  put  away.  There  was  haircloth 
furniture  which  had  loomed  into  all- 
pervading  prominence  since  the  "an- 
tique" habit  had  sent  Happyville  in 
penitent  haste  to  its  scrap-piles,  a  rose- 
wood melodeon  with  curved  legs,  a 
panel  mirror  trimmed  in  time-deepened 
gold  with  sleeping  lions  on  it,  and  a 
banjo  clock  upon  whose  pendulum 
box  a  gentleman  in  knickerbockers, 
powdered  wig,  long  coat,  ruffles, 
buckles,  staff,  and  three-cornered  hat 

[110] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

handed  a  flower  to  an  adorable  yellow 
satin  miss  in  great  snowy  bonnet.  The 
case  was  puttied  and  bandaged,  its 
bulging  crystal  seeming  to  lean  forward 
to  listen,  and  with  defiant  eagle  on  top, 
it  was  priceless. 

What  is  more  the  soul  of  time  than 
the  decrepit  veteran  that  has  kept  it? 

The  great  city  supplied  the  feast; 
seasons  met  in  the  menu  and  there  was 
excitement  when  the  strawberry  stepped 
upon  the  lobster's  tail. 

Long  after  midnight  the  party  ended, 
but  the  host  insisted  that  Philip  stay. 
He  pressed  a  button  when  they  were 
alone,  saying:  "I  want  a  little  more 
to  wash  something  off  the  tip  of  my 
tongue — something  that's  been  hang- 
ing there  a  long  time. 

"My  boy,  it's  often  seemed  as  if  in 
the  rush  of  things,  the  Almighty  has 
made  mistakes  in  saying  who  should 
[in] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

live  and  who  should  die — who  should 
have  children  and  who  should  not. 
There  are  countless  lonely  men  and 
women  in  this  world — and  few  who 
haven't  some  make-believe  offspring; 
old  hearts  play  with  the  strangest  dolls 
that  ever  were.  They  may  go  near 
young  folks  and  through  their  hands 
hold  on  to  life,  or  they  may  just  watch 
over  them  from  afar. 

"I've  said  a  thousand  times,  as  some 
smiling,  shiny-faced  youngster  has 
hopped  along  the  street:  'He's  like 
mine  would  have  been — only  the  hair 
would  have  been  like  this  or  the  eyes 
like  that. '  I  always  wanted  a  boy  and 
a  girl — and  do  you  know  where  I  found 
the  boy? — the  strangest  place  in  the 
world — upon  a  bridge.  He  walked 
right  into  my  life,  without  ringing  the 
door-bell,  and  wanted  five  hundred  dol- 
lars to  buy  stock  in  a  circus.  Philip, 

[112] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

you  will  never  know  the  happiness  it 
gave  me  to  sign  that  note.  After  I  had 
walked  away  with  blood  coursing 
through  parts  of  my  body  long  a  desert, 
I  turned  to  watch  you;  I  wished  the 
amount  had  been  ten  times  as  much — 
and  I  adopted  you  on  the  spot. 

"But  the  girl  was  first — she  was 
placed  in  my  arms,  so  to  speak." 

He  filled  two  glasses  and  resumed: 
"And  how  glorious  it  may  all  be  now 
in  my  old  days — I've  a  toast  just  for 
you  and  me,  though  I  wanted  to  drink 
it  before  the  crowd — 'You  love  her; 
may  she  love  you — and  may  I  live  to 
see  it!'" 

A  light  which  did  not  come  from  the 
green  lamp-shade  mantled  the  face  of 
the  tall  young  man  who  arose  to  run 
a  hand  through  his  hair  and  walk  the 
length  of  the  room. 

"Colonel,    I've    had    nothing     but 

[113] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

riddles  all  day — tell  me  something 
real!" 

"Why,  Philip,  you've  seen  her  since 
I — in  fact,  I  never  saw  her  face  at  all — 
it  isn't  exactly  necessary,  you  know, 
for  all  the  children  of  these  adoptions 
really  to  exist — some  of  them  play  in  the 
sand  when  they  are  little — and  others — 
just  in  the  air." 

It  was  difficult  to  read  the  speaker's 
face  for  clouds  of  smoke,  yet  his  ex- 
pression was  far  from  levity  as  his 
heart  was  far  from  evil. 

Philip  slowly  returned  from  the  end 
of  the  room. 

"Tell  me  her  name." 

"Assuming  that  she  exists,  I  never 
knew  it." 

"She  has  never  written  to  you?" 

"She  does  not  know  that  I  am  in  the 
world." 

Philip   lighted   a   cigar   and   leaned 

[114] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

against  the  mantel;  the  color  left  his 
face,  and,  for  the  first  time,  he  ad- 
dressed his  benefactor  in  a  tone  of 
impatience. 

"Colonel,  you've  been  drinking; 
you've  played  with  a  matter  which  is 
more  to  me  than  all  the  honors  in 
the  world;  it's  getting  late — I  must 

go-" 

"Be  patient!     I've  had  a  fine  time 

to-night;  it's  been  new  life,  and  under 
the  spell  I've  told  you  more  than  I 
should — and  less  too. 

"Philip!"     He  shouted  the  name  as 
if  that   most  alert   soul   were   asleep. 
;<You  said  I'd  been  drinking — do  you 
recall  the  play  we  saw  last  Christmas  ?" 
"Yes,  Colonel;   it  was  'Garrick." 
"Well,  he  played  drunk  to  disgust 
the  girl  who  loved  him;    I've  played  it 
to  see  if  you  really  cared  for  her — and 
now  I  know." 

[115] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Swiftly  drawing  up  a  chair  till  his 
knees  touched  those  of  his  friend, 
Philip  anxiously  asked:  "Is  she  re- 
lated to  Shanks  ?" 

"God  help  us,  man!"  exploded  the 
Colonel.  '  You've  seen  them  both — 
isn't  it  miracle  enough  for  such  dif- 
ferent people  to  come  into  the  same 
world?" 

"Yes,"  the  youth  replied,  dejectedly, 
"I  suppose  it  is. 

"Colonel,  doesn't  death  end  all  dif- 
ferences?" 

"Of  course." 

"And  isn't  insanity  worse  than 
death?" 

"He's  not  insane!" 

"When  have  you  talked  to  him?" 

"Not  lately — not  in  more  than  forty 
years.  Understand — it's  not  a  grudge; 
that's  easily  cured — a  word  or  a  bullet. 
This  is  soul-sickness — it's  incurable." 

[116] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Slowly  lowering  his  head,  he  solilo- 
quized: "Colonel,  you've  been  drink- 
ing; Philip  says  so  and  Philip  ought 
to  know." 

He  arose  and  walked  to  the  mirror. 
;'Yes,  Colonel,  your  hair's  on  end;  I'll 
brush  it;  your  tie's  crooked;  I'll 
straighten  it;  your  eyes  are  queer — 
but  I  can't  fix  them — and  you're  the 
fellow  who  had  his  pocket  picked  at 
the  Hilltown  convention — well,  here's 
to  you,  just  the  same — I  knew  you  a 
long  time  ago." 

The  Colonel  raised  the  glass  to  his 
reflection.  Without  turning,  he  added: 
"You're  a  prince,  Philip,  for  rising  to 
that  toast." 

With  hands  behind  him  the  old 
fighter  crossed  and  recrossed  the  floor. 

"Philip,  I've  taken  too  much — not 
because  it's  intoxicating,  but  because 
it's  memory  water.  WTien  I  take  a 
[117] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS   COUNTRY 

little,  old  orchards  bloom  again  and  I'm 
a  child,  walking  beside  the  fairest  soul 
that  ever  flowered  in  womanhood — and 
that's  sublime.  I  take  some  more  and 
up  springs  a  comradeship  with  a  neigh- 
bor boy;  we  hunt;  we  fish;  we  trap; 
we  sleep  together — and  that's  fine.  I 
take  a  little  more  and  we  finish  the  old 
log  school — that  neighbor  boy  and  I; 
we  sit  on  the  rail  fence — I  can  see  it  all 
— it's  May;  we  tie  up  our  books; 
we  untie  the  future — that's  where  our 
lines  cross — we  both  want  to  go  to 
West  Point;  then  that  neighbor  boy 
gives  way  for  me — and  that's  the  dear- 
est memory  possible. 

"I  should  stop  with  the  recollection 
of  that  sacrifice;  I  should  drink  no 
more,  but  I  do — and  it's  too  late;  all 
the  power  on  earth  will  not  keep  it 
down ;  up  it  comes — that  terrible  thing 

— his  nameless  crime — up  from  church- 
[118] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

yard  graves  rise  those  innocents — Oh, 
Philip,  that  act  was  patented  in  hell!" 

The  Colonel  sank  into  a  chair  and 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  It  seemed 
an  hour  he  sat  in  silence,  then  slowly 
resumed : 

"And  you  think  he's  crazy;  you 
should  have  known  him  in  childhood; 
his  mind  ran  away  with  the  teachers. 
You  will  soon  see  men  in  the  Capitol 
of  your  country — great  men  from  all 
nations. 

"Some  night  at  a  president's  recep- 
tion, look  them  over  and  remember 
I  said  this  man  named  Shanks  was  the 
brightest  of  the  bright,  and  but  for  that 
one  thing  might  have  been  a  great 
figure — but  come;  let's  finish  this." 

Emptying  the  bottle,  he  leaned  for- 
ward, his  elbow  on  the  arm  of  the 
chair;  then  he  whirled  the  wine  be- 
tween his  thumb  and  finger  and  spoke 

[119] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

with  deep  affection.  "She's  a  great 
woman,  Philip — beautiful  clear  through 
— the  beauty  that  age  will  love  too 
much  to  mar — she's  almost  fine  enough 
to  be  repentance  for  the  old  man's 
crime." 

The  Colonel's  black  eyes  were  fixed 
on  Philip  as  the  eyes  of  one  who  speaks 
because  he  must — but  speaks  only 
once.  They  turned  to  linger  on  the 
wine-glass  and  grew  dreamy.  "Look 
at  this  rim  closely;  do  you  see  anything 
on  it — anybody — any  of  your  old  ac- 
quaintances ? — look  at  the  glass,  Philip, 
not  at  me." 

"No,  Colonel;  nobody — nothing  at 
all." 

"That's  strange."  His  was  the  most 
perplexed  expression. 

"It's  only  a  few  inches  round  and 
thin  as  a  wafer — not  a  comfortable 
place  to  sit."  He  held  the  goblet  to 
[120] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

the  light.  "There  they  are  and  all 
changing  color;  now  they're  pink — 
now  they're  purple;  must  be  a  mil- 
lion altogether  and  all  your  friends — 
a  million  fairies  pleading  with  me  to  tell 
you  everything,  but  away  down  in  my 
heart  that  terrible  thing  commands  me 
to  be  silent." 


[121] 


CHAPTER  VI 

SEVEN  months  had  gone  since  the 
Colonel's  banquet;  election-day 
brought  victory  and  passed  away; 
Philip  had  known  the  ills  of  office,  as 
Congress  had  been  called  in  special 
session  soon  after  his  term  began.  One 
day  during  the  campaign,  he  had  drawn 
up  at  the  Pisgah  toll-house,  but  the 
"single-handed  conqueror  of  Vicks- 
burg"  stopped  smoking  only  long 
enough  to  request  to  be  excused.  As 
for  the  identity  and  whereabouts  of  the 
Incomparable,  a  word  from  Colonel 
Hardy,  enjoining  patience,  had  reduced 
Philip  to  helplessness  in  the  toils  of 
conjecture.  Now  Congress  was  ad- 
journed and  Shanks  had  commanded 
his  presence,  fixing  the  hour  with  that 

[122] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

precision  only  natural  in  one  so  intol- 
erant of  military  delay. 

He  was  stationed  upon  the  porch  as 
usual,  the  only  change  in  the  scene 
being  the  absence  of  the  rusty  cat — 
due  to  her  encounter  with  a  mink.  In 
the  shade  of  a  morning-glory  vine 
Button  seasoned  his  philosophy  with 
a  flatness  which  was  balm  to  the  soul, 
responding  to  Philip's  greeting  by  open- 
ing an  eye  the  hundredth  part  of  an 
inch  and  faintly  rapping  once. 

Shanks  had  become  his  representa- 
tive's most  faithful  correspondent;  he 
had  attended  legislation  with  an  accu- 
racy which  proved  him  a  faithful 
reader  of  the  Congressional  Record. 

The  old  man  arose,  smiling. 

He  had  spoken  but  a  line  when 
the  young  man  wondered  what  had 
wrought  the  change.  The  nervous  vigi- 
lance was  gone;  in  its  stead  was 

[123] 


the  stirring  of  solicitude  to  touch  Life's 
warm  hand,  such  as  rises  from  con- 
sciousness of  loss,  long  and  irreparable. 

Philip  had  sent  him  a  picture  of  the 
House  of  Representatives,  showing 
members  in  their  seats,  and,  with  an 
enthusiasm  which  lost  itself  in  pathos, 
Shanks  explained  that  by  looking  at 
this  while  reading  the  Record,  it  was 
easy  to  see  the  whole  proceeding.  He 
inquired  respecting  the  personalities  of 
leaders,  discussed  various  measures, 
and  grew  indignant  that  any  one 
should  have  proposed  to  abandon  the 
White  House  for  a  more  imposing 
establishment. 

"Ain't  things  a-changin'  all  too  fast  ? 
Why  can't  they  let  it  alone,  a-standin' 
out  anchored  to  ole  days  like  ?  I  reck- 
on it's  jist  as  I  seen  it  onct,  but " 

He  stopped  abruptly  and  searched 
the  corduroy  coat  for  his  pipe. 

[124] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"As  I  recollec',  you  ain't  ejicated  up 
to  mullen  yit.  Tell  me  'bout  that 
White  House,  Dan'l." 

His  eyes  brightened  at  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  interior,  especially  the 
Washington  portrait  which  Dolly  Mad- 
ison cut  out  and  saved  from  the 
flames. 

He  dissented  from  a  suggestion  that 
he  attend  the  next  inauguration.  "I'd 
give  a  heap  to  see  the  place  ag'in,  but 
then  I  wouldn't  luk  at  it  fer  the  whole 
world — jist  a  ole  man's  idy,  you  see. 

"'Pears  like  rain  off  yander."  He 
pointed  to  ragged  gray  clouds  drifting 
in  from  the  south.  "Corn's  a-astin* 
fer  it,  too." 

He  squared  round  in  his  chair. 
"Dan'l,  they's  jist  one  fear  I've  got. 
You  started  so  airly  an'  wuz  so  lucky 
like — I'm  sup'stitious  'nough  to  cahi- 
late  they's  jist  so  many  rocks  fer  every 

[125] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

feller  an'  he  may  git  'em  one  at  a  time 
er  all  at  onct." 

To  speak  of  his  "claim"  was  un- 
thinkable, but  Philip  was  speculating 
as  to  the  effect  of  such  a  reference  when 
Shanks  introduced  the  matter  himself. 

"Guv'ment's  wunerful;  never  asts 
fer  money  an'  allus  has  it — an'  so  you 
wrote  me  'at  my  claim  wuz  still  a- 
pendin'.  Dan'l,  when  you  done  that, 
you  said  to  yerself:  'It's  the  staff 
Shanks  walks  with  an'  I  won't  take 
it  away." 

There  is  no  pearl  like  humor  in  an 
old  man's  eye. 

"Do  you  know  what  happened 
when  that  letter  come  ?  I  laughed — it 
wuz  tumble,  too — like  the  cryin'  out 
of  a  feller  inside — you  see,  Dan'l,  I'd 
fergot  how." 

For  an  instant,  the  expression  of  the 
year  before  returned. 

[126] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"I  wuz  a  ha'nted  house;  I  dunno;  I 
cahilate  the  change  come  'long  with  the 
books  you  sent — an*  the  pit'chur — I  got 
to  thinkin'  o'  other  things, — that's  all 
they  is  to  mind-medicine.  Well,  the 
night  after  I  laughed  I  wuz  afeerd  to 
go  to  bed — afeerd  I'd  wake  up  wild 
ag'in — an'  I  set  up  late  an'  it  wuz  cold — 
way  under  zero ;  winders  all  silver-like, 
an'  white  round  the  latch;  things  all 
a-crackin'  an'  the  wind  a-gallopin' 
through  the  trees  with  a  million  devils 
after  it — an*  sumpin'  up  an'  sed  sharp- 
like:  'Look  out,  Shanks,  yer  laugh's 
a-goin'  'way — there,  it's  gone!' 

"Dan'l,  wuz  you  ever  hit  in  the  eye 
an'  afeerd  to  take  yer  hand  off  ? — well, 
that  ain't  nuthin'  at  all.  I  gethered  up 
my  grit  an'  tuk  a  long  breath,  an'  sez  I : 
'I'll  make  her  loud  er  not  at  all,'  an* 
then  I  leapt  up,  fer  the  chimbley 
laughed  back — an'  the  clock  an'  the 

[127] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

punkins  on  the  beams,  an*  I  piled  on 
more  fire  an*  pulled  my  cheer  up  closter 
an*  made  Button  git  up  an*  talk  to 
me — an'  I  went  to  sleep  a-settin'  there. 
Next  mornin'  I  thanked  the  Lord — fer, 
Dan'l,  they's  jist  two  kinds  o'  people  in 
the  world — them  that  kin  laugh — an' 
them  that's  crazy." 

Leaning  far  back,  he  proceeded  to 
whistle  different  parts  of  nothing  at 
all,  and  finally  asked:  "Heap  o'  folks 
a-comin'  down  to  Washin'ton,  I  cahi- 
late?" 

"Nobody  but  Colonel  Hardy 
and — "  Philip  restrained  himself  too 
late;  he  had  mentioned  the  forbidden 
name. 

:<Yer  lucky  to  have  sich  a  Men', 
Dan'l;  finest  feller  I  ever  met."  There 
was  no  more  agitation  in  his  tone  than 
an  instant  later  when  a  bee  in  the 
morning-glory  vine  brought  Button  to 

[128] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

his  feet,  to  turn  his  head,  wrinkle  his 
nose,  and  snap  at  flies. 

Philip  informed  him  that  the  records 
of  the  War  Department  told  of  a 
' '  Joseph  Shanks . "  * '  Grant  mentioned 
him  for  gallant  conduct — he  was 
killed." 

The  old  man's  eye  gleamed;  it  was 
as  if  some  far-off  storm  of  life  flashed 
back  its  lightning. 

"You  don't  tell  me!"  he  exclaimed 
after  a  moment.  "Joseph  Shanks." 
He  slowly  repeated  the  name. 
"Sounds  familiar-like,  might  'a'  bin 
o'  kin — Shankses  wuz  a  big  fambly." 

His  manner  brightened  suddenly: 
"Luk  at  that  feller."  He  pointed  to 
a  caterpillar  pushing  his  fuzzy  length 
across  the  floor.  "Dan'l,  he's  got  to 
wear  his  furs  in  hot  weather  er  not  at 
all ;  I  don't  know  whur  he's  bound  fer, 
but  I  cahilate  it  '11  'mount  to  'bout  as 

[129] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

much  in  a  hunderd  years  as  the  Presi- 
dent's trip  to  Calif ornie." 

The  pale  face  was  now  traced  with 
the  rarest  of  smiles,  the  gray  smile 
which  comes  when,  after  long  years, 
the  lamp  of  mirth  burns  low  on  its 
altar.  It  is  a  strange  lamp;  the  last 
drop  of  its  oil  may  be  as  brilliant  as 
the  first,  and  when  so,  the  death-bed 
has  the  cradle's  smile. 

"Git  out  o'  my  way,  Shanks;  yer 
on'y  a-settin'  out  hyere  a-gassin*  to 
Dan'l  an*  I'm  busy;  I'm  on  my  way 
to  be  a  butterfly  an'  I  ain't  got  no  time 
to  spare!" 

He  moved  his  chair.  "Come  ahead, 
Mr.  Napoleon  Bonaparte;  I  wouldn't 
hurt  you  fer  the  whole  blame  plantation 
— go  'long,  Button,  can't  you  let  a  gen- 
tleman alone?" 

And  he  who  moved  aside  for  cater- 
pillars had  done  a  thing  so  terrible,  its 

[130] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

memory  "lifted  innocents  from  church- 
yard graves — a  thing  patented  in  hell!" 
Philip  gazed  at  his  strange  constituent 
in  amazement. 

Shanks  leaned  forward  with  a  start: 
"I  hope  that  ain't  so!" 

"What?" 

"Thought  I  heerd  a  katydid!" 

"What  of  it?" 

"Lordy,  Dan'l,  a  Congressman  that 
don't  know  what  a  katydid  stands  fer — 
why,  on'y  six  weeks  till  frost — listen — 
no'p,  it's  sumpin'  else." 

It  grew  suddenly  dark;  large  drops 
of  rain  tapped  up  puffs  in  the  road; 
a  gust  blew  over  them;  Button 
jumped,  nosing  his  way  inside,  and 
they  followed.  The  room  had  an 
atmosphere  of  order,  with  its  muslin 
curtains,  and  broom  in  the  corner. 
Beneath  the  clock-shelf  stretched  a 
cobweb,  a  drapery  to  order,  by  the 

[131] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

king  of  artists  now  ascending  a  shaft 
of  speckled  light  in  his  private  ele- 
vator. The  cord  bed  with  high  posts 
was  piled  with  straw  tick,  and  over 
it  was  a  red-and-white  quilt,  while  in 
the  centre  of  the  wall,  darkened  by  a 
shutter  blown  against  the  window, 
stood  the  cave-like  hood  of  the  fire- 
place. 

Raising  the  latch,  Shanks  stepped  to 
the  shed,  lowered  a  bucket,  and  re- 
turned with  a  gourd.  "Dan'l,  have  a 
drink." 

With  hands  flat  on  the  arms  of  the 
chair,  the  old  man  leaned  back  and 
closed  his  eyes;  he  might  have  been 
lifeless,  but  for  the  lump  rising  and 
falling  in  his  throat. 

Thunder  rolled;  countless  imps  danced 
upon  the  shingles;  water  swept  from 
the  eaves  in  sheets ;  then  it  ceased  sud- 
denly as  it  had  begun ;  sunlight  flashed ; 
[132] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

the  poorest  twig  dropped  diamond 
after  diamond  till  there  was  a  coronet 
for  every  blade  of  grass ;  a  spice  floated 
out  of  the  dead  leaves  and  moss- 
covered,  crumbling  logs;  the  air  was 
faint-hued;  it  was  like  sitting  in  a 
bubble. 

"It's  a  little  dark,"  Shanks  observed, 
pushing  back  the  shutter  and  letting 
the  lively  light  fall  upon  the  fire- 
place. 

Philip's  eyes  turned  to  stars  as  he 
sprang  to  a  picture  by  the  chimney. 
It  was  of  Shanks  and  a  girl,  just  enter- 
ing her  teens ;  she  was  dressed  in  ging- 
ham, her  hair  parted  plainly.  At  first, 
Philip  thought  its  gold  too  bright — 
but  that  was  only  natural,  it  was  the 
resemblance  of  the  bud  to  the  flower. 

He  turned  as  the  old  man  entered 
the  room  with  a  sack. 

"Fine  picture — of  you,  Mr.  Shanks." 

[133] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

The  latter  poured  water  into  the 
pot  hanging  from  the  crane,  then 
lighted  the  fire. 

"Oh,  tol'able,  I  cahilate;  it's  me  an' 
'Mad' — Madeline — it  wuz  tuk  the  day 
she  first  cleared  out;  ast  her  what  she'd 
have;  she's  got  the  other  'n.  It's  good 
o'  her  too,  on'y  it  don't  do  her  fair. 
An',  Lordy,  Dan'l,  you'd  ought  to  see 
her  now!" 

Rubbing  his  spectacles,  he  drew  near 
the  likeness,  and  moistened  his  lips. 

"I  druv  her  off,  Dan'l;  ye'p,  I  druv 
her  off;  it  tuk  the  hide,  but  I  done  it; 
you  kin  see  jist  a  little  o'  how  she  felt  in 
that  left  eye,  but  I  cahilate  they  wouldn't 
'a'  bin  even  that  to  tell  on  her  if  she 
hadn't  a-tried  to  smile — she's  got  the 
nerve  o'  Andy  Jackson — the  women  are 
the  brave  folks,  Dan'l — wait,  I'll  fetch 
it  to  the  light.  That  other  'n  t'other 
side  o'  chimbley's  her  mother;  she 

[134] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

wuz  my  girl,  Mary.  Let's  see,  it's  bin 
eighteen  year  o'  Thanksgivin'  since  she 
pined  away.  Bill  didn't  come  back — 
her  man,  you  know — went  West  to  stake 
a  claim — never  heerd  tell  uv — good 
feller,  Bill  King  wuz — Injuns,  I  cahilate. 

"Notice  little  Mad's  fore'd;  I  rec- 
ollec'  onct  she  shuk  her  fist  at  a  stick 
o5  wood  'at  fell  on  her  bare  foot — an' 
how  that  straight  nose  o'  hern  did 
quiver — an'  luk  at  that  mouth,  Dan'l, 
gentle  as  a  *  johnny- jump-up'  an'  yit 
they  ain't  no  poutin'  round  'em  lips,  no 
whinin',  no  beatin'  round  the  bush. 
She  wuz  a-comin'  three  when  we  wuz 
left  to  foot  it  alone;  it  wuz  tumble  in 
a  way,  an'  ag'in  it  wuz  grand  an'  holy- 
like — the  'sponsibility — why,  Dan'l, 
when  I'd  press  that  little  thing  ag'in' 
my  heart  I'd  feel  like  the  sky. 

"She  wuz  allus  a-tearin'  round, 
busier'n  a  robin  after  a  rain — an'  climb 

[135] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

trees — Lordy!  Dan'l,  that  chile  wuz 
part  squirrel.  She'd  set  up  there  in  the 
blossoms  a-lukin'  like  their  older  sister, 
till  I'd  climb  up  an*  git  her,  an'  then 
uv  a  summer's  night,  she'd  set  in  that 
ole  chimbley  an'  luk  at  the  stars  an' 
play  'heaven'  an'  talk  to  the  whole 
universe,  an'  make  me  crawl  in  when 
my  ole  rheumatiz  would  crack,  I  tell 
you.  She  come  as  a  Christmas  present, 
Dan'l,  an'  one  day  she  up  an'  sez  she 
wuz  goin'  to  git  married  that  day. 

"They  wuzn't  no  bear  story  ever  made 
'at  I  haven't  tole  her  a  thousan'  times, 
an'  I  cahilate  I  made  a  thousan'  o'  my 
own— an'  do  you  think  she'd  leave  me  ? — 
No,  siree — not  fer  the  whole  creation!" 

He  wiped  the  picture  with  a  handker- 
chief, and  gazed  at  it  in  silence. 

"Why,  then — why  did  you  drive  her 
off?"  For  the  moment,  Shanks's  eyes 
wandered  down  the  shadow-tangled 

[136] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

pathway  of  the  years.  Then  he  arose 
and  slowly  stirred  meal  into  the  bub- 
bling pot. 

"It  wuz  like  this,  Dan'l.  I  tuk  her 
to  singin'  school  at  Bethel  onct,  an* 
she  set  there,  eyes  an'  ears  a-starvin' 
like — think  she'd  go  to  sleep  ? — She 
didn't  bat  a  eye — an'  she  wuzn't  five. 
That  night  I  wuz  a-carryin'  her  up  the 
hill  yander,  all  done  up  in  a  shawl, 
wind  a-blowin'  hard,  an'  I  thought  she 
wuz  a-dreamin',  when  her  head  popped 
out  like  a  redbird's,  an'  sez  she :  *  Pap, 
throw  me  in  a  snow-drif  an'  fin'  me/ 
*Nop,'  sez  I;  'too  cole.'  *  Jist  onct,'  sez 
she,  'an'  I'll  tell  you  sumpin'.'  I  tossed 
her  in  an'  sez  she,  a-clappin'  her 
hands:  'I'm  goin'  to  be  a  gran'  singer 
when  I  git  big' — an'  she  kep'  her  word, 
Dan'l — she  allus  has. 

"Well,  she  went  to  school,  a-singin' 
all  the  time,  an'  she  made  me  saw 

[137] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

away  on  that  ole  'fid'  till  I  wuz  most 
dizzy.  Teacher  cahilated  she  wuz  fine ; 
why,  Dan'l,  it  wuz  jist  like  she  couldn't 
help  it — hyere  'bout  this  ranch,  the  birds 
all  'peared  to  wait  fer  her  to  tune  up. 
"Well,  one  day  a  carriage  druv  out 
frum  town — the  woman  o'  that  surveyin' 
feller  'at  put  the  railroad  through  Hap- 
pyville ;  it  wuz  hot,  an'  little  Mad  went 
out  to  take  the  toll,  an'  the  woman 
talked  to  her  an'  ast  fer  a  drink,  an' 
the  chile  fetched  that  very  gourd,  an' 
as  the  woman  wuz  a-drinkin',  little 
Mad  flew  out  o'  sight  a-cryin':  'Wait 
a  minute,  lady,'  an'  when  she  come 
back  she  had  a  armful  o'  golden-rod. 
The  woman  ust  to  come  an'  fetch  her 
things,  an'  fin'ly  one  day  when  Mad 
had  come  twelve,  she  wuz  a-ironin'  an' 
a-singin'  'Home,  Sweet  Home'  'cause  it 
wuz  my  fav'rite,  an'  I  wuz  a-smokin' 
out  on  the  porch,  when  a  rig  druv  up 

[138] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

an'  the  woman  ruz  her  hand  fer  me 
to  keep  still,  an'  when  the  song  wuz 
over  she  come  in  an'  patted  Mad, 
but  she  jist  smiled  an'  licked  her 
finger  an'  spatted  'nuther  iron  on  the 
bottom  an'  went  on  with  business. 
Then  the  woman  tuk  me  off  an'  sez 
the  chile  wuz  wunerful,  an'  when  she'd 
got  done  a-pleadin',  I'd  promised  to 
let  her  take  Mad  to  ejicate.  I'd  felt 
fer  a  long  time  she  wuz  too  glorious- 
like  to  be  locked  up  with  a  ole  man  in 
sich  a  place — an'  I  tole  the  woman  to 
keep  her  till  I  sent — an'  I  never  sent. 
"But  what  do  you  cahilate,  Dan'l — 
it  had  bin  six  year,  an'  one  day  I  wuz 
a-settin'  out  on  the  porch,  half  asleep, 
when  I  heerd  wheels  a-crossin'  Pigeon 
Crick,  an'  then  they  wuz  a  cloud  o' 
dust;  it  wuz  a  hack  a-comin'  like  the 
wind — a  hack,  Dan'l,  plumb  out  from 
town,  an'  'fore  it  stopped,  the  door 

[139] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

bust  open  an'  Mad  leapt  out  an*  flew 
on  me,  a-spillin'  fire  an'  mullen  all 
over  both  uv  us,  an'  she  laughed  an' 
cried,  an'  said:  'Pap,  I've  come  to 
stay  ferever!' — an'  my  God,  Dan'l — 
she  wuz — she  wuz  beautifuller'n  all 
the  stars! 

"She  kep'  a-jumpin'  round  like  a 
chile,  an'  called  Button  an'  tuk  me 
'long,  an'  looked  down  the  well  an'  up 
the  chimbley  an'  out  in  the  orchard  an' 
everywhur — an'  she  kep'  a-hummin' 
sumpin'  a-gittin'  supper,  an'  I  jist  stood 
roun'  a-feelin'  hot  an'  cole. 

"Then  wuz  the  hardest  work  I  ever 
had  to  do;  I  couldn't  let  her  stay,  an'  I 
wouldn't  go  'long ;  she  tole  me  how  we'd 
keep  house  in  the  great  city.  Sez  she: 
*Uv  a  Sunday  afternoon  I'll  take  you 
by  the  arm,  a-smokin'  yer  corn-cob 
pipe,  an'  me  an'  you  an'  Button  '11  go 
walkin'  in  the  park — the  idy,  Dan'l — 

[140] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

I  druv  her  off  ag'in — an'  that  wuz — 
let's  see." 

He  turned  and  opened  the  door  to 
the  shed;  it  was  half  covered  with 
chalk  marks. 

"That  wuz  Aprile  a  year  ago." 

Philip's  mind  flew  back  to  a  day 
when  there  had  been  a  fire — a  day  when 
a  glorious  creature  had  stood  in  the 
Red  Front  book-store,  and  smiled  in 
token  of  a  kinship  with  all  mornings 
from  the  first. 

Then  his  heart  leaped  at  the  sight 
of  two  other  entries  below: 

"Mad'lin— August  10, 
"Dan'l— August  11." 

The  first  was  the  date  of  his  nomina- 
tion ;  the  second,  his  first  visit  to  Pisgah. 

"She  went  back,"  Shanks  resumed; 
"said  she  wuz  a-goin'  to  start  a  school 
an'  make  her  board  an'  keep — an'  now 

[141] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

hole  yer  breath — she  paid  the  mortgage 
on  this  plantation,  an'  now  it's  ourn — 
all  uv  it — two  acres  an'  a  half! 

"I've  a  letter  hyere;  yer  eyes  is 
younger'n  mine;  I'll  jist  give  you  the 
last  page — the  rest's  on'y  foolishness — 
read  it  out  loud,  Dan'l." 

"This  is  a  city  of  wonders,  but  give 
me  Pisgah  every  time. 

"I'm  glad  Mr.  Daniel  sent  you  all 
those  things,  and  that  you  enjoy  them. 
To  think  of  the  convention — your 
speech  and  the  home-coming — it  makes 
me  homesick,  so  don't  be  surprised  if 
you  see  me  coming  up  the  hill  one  of 
these  fine  days." 

As  Philip  returned  the  letter,  Shanks 
arose  in  a  trembling  transformation,  the 
veins  round  his  temples  seeming  to  lie 
almost  upon  the  skin. 

"Dan'l,  I  liked  you  a  tumble  lot, 
but  sumpin'  jist  tole  me  you'd  try  to 

[142] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

take  her  frum  me — an'  I'm  goin'  to 
keep  her!"  He  shook  a  withered  fist 
in  Philip's  face.  "I  seen  you  when 
you  found  that  pit'chur  by  the  chimbley, 
an'  ag'in  when  you  seen  them  names 
writ  on  that  door,  an'  to  prove  it,  I 
give  you  the  page  a-speakin'  o'  yerself, 
an'  I  seen  you  take  that  card  frum  yer 
pocket  an'  compare  the  writin'. 

"I  writ  them  names  but  I  kin  rub 
'em  out!" 

With  a  cold,  cracking  laugh,  he 
sprang  to  the  door  and  rubbed  the 
chalk  marks  with  his  sleeve,  then  he 
slammed  it,  and  creeping  back,  placed 
both  hands  upon  Philip's  shoulders  as 
he  had  done  that  rainy  night  when  he 
rode  to  Happy ville  with  the  "retire- 
ment." 

"Dan'l,  luk  me  in  the  eye!"  He 
blinked  as  before  a  sudden  light,  then 
shook  his  head.  "No'p;  I  bin  wrong; 

[143] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

you  don't  luk  like  that  boy  I  ust  to  know 
— you  don't  luk  like  none  o'  my  blood  at 
all — an'  don't  come  ag'in — never!" 

Philip  stepped  toward  the  door.  "I 
owe  you  a  great  deal,  Mr.  Shanks,  I'll 
do  anything  in  the  world — but  'never' 
is  a  long  day." 

"  Go — Dan'l:  leave  me  alone." 
He  dropped  his  shaking  hands,  and 
the  old  dog  arose  to  lick  his  fingers. 


[144] 


CHAPTER  VII 

IT  was  Decoration  Day,  and  Happy- 
ville  fluttered  with  flags;  school- 
books  were  abandoned,  and  chil- 
dren gathered  here  and  there,  some 
playing  marbles,  others  wandering 
toward  the  river  with  pole  and  line. 
The  ''Old  Soldier"  with  lighter  step 
and  brighter  badge  came  down  the 
street  and  disappeared  up  a  stairway 
where  fife  and  drum  were  heard. 
Women  stood  in  bushes,  clipping  roses 
and  snowballs,  and  down  the  way 
loomed  the  secret  society  man  in  full 
regalia,  leading  his  little  girl,  and 
causing  other  little  girls  to  clasp  the 
pickets,  gaze  in  awe,  and  lament  the 
absence  of  like  parental  plumage. 

Flowers  were  strewn  about  the  Sol- 
diers' Monument,  and  the  last  sounds 

[145] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

of  hammer  and  saw  came  from  City 
Park,  where  new  benches  told  of  out- 
door exercises. 

"No  hope  of  rani,"  Philip  mused 
as  he  walked  along;  he  looked  again 
into  the  cloudless  blue — the  ardent  sun 
— and  thought  of  the  fifteen  miles  to 
Saddletown.  It  was  a  long  trip  to 
make  alone;  he  entered  the  American 
House  for  a  companion. 

Colonel  Hardy,  arrayed  in  white 
flannel,  was  reading  the  paper. 

"I'd  take  you  along  if  it  would  not 
soil  you." 

"You  forget,  Philip— I'm  *  Marshal 
of  the  Day."  The  Colonel  smilingly 
waved  a  hand  toward  his  red  sash. 
"In  your  remarks  this  afternoon — 
don't  *  reunite  the  sections.' ' 

Two  highways  stretched  away  to 
Saddletown,  one  along  the  river  under 

[146] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

sycamores,  while  the  other  pointed 
straight  out  through  the  heat. 

There  was  no  room  for  debate,  and 
the  old  horse  had  chosen  the  trees 
when  Philip  turned  him  down  the  tor- 
rid prospect.  The  animal's  displeasure 
was  apparent  in  instant  weariness  which 
brought  moral  suasion  from  the  driver, 
then  the  whip;  but  neither  availed,  since 
the  animal's  hearing  was  defective  when 
he  willed,  while  that  portion  of  his  body 
exposed  to  attack  had  long  been  im- 
mune. Mile  after  mile  his  vexation  in- 
creased till,  at  the  foot  of  a  high  hill,  he 
stopped  with  the  authority  of  a  clock  run 
down,  and  turned  an  accusing  head  to- 
ward the  buggy,  a  protest  which  Philip 
was  in  no  mood  to  heed  as  a  summer 
dress  flitted  across  a  porch  ahead  of  him. 

Leaning  over  the  side,  he  lightly 
touched  Comrade's  flank:  "Go  on — 
it's  only  a  little  way  to  Fate." 

[147] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Then  he  crossed  the  balmy  boundary 
of  a  song,  and  an  old  gentleman 
came  forth,  dragging  a  chair,  a  fiddle 
under  his  arm.  In  the  act  of  sitting, 
he  turned,  shaded  his  eyes,  and  fled 
within. 

As  the  buggy  drew  opposite,  the  door 
banged  with  a  violence  which  sent 
Button  through  the  morning-glory 
vine.  Philip  tied  the  horse,  looking 
for  signs  of  life  about  the  shack,  now 
wrapped  in  all  the  stillness  of  a  fort 
just  before  assault.  With  a  smile,  he 
stroked  the  horse's  nose:  "Comrade, 
behold  me  in  the  flesh — perhaps  for  the 
last  time." 

He  crossed  the  porch  and  Button 
crept  near  enough  to  pay  a  tribute  of 
amazement  to  his  daring.  He  knocked, 
but  there  was  no  answer,  then  raised 
the  latch,  when  something  chained  him 
to  the  threshold. 

[148] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

It  was  not  the  forbidding  hand  of 
Shanks  nor  his  pale  face;  it  was  a 
miracle  like  December  turned  to  June, 
and  the  presence  of  the  one  who  had 
wrought  it,  sitting  upon  a  trunk  in  the 
centre  of  the  room.  He  had  seen  the 
place  less  than  a  month  before;  it  had 
been  gray  and  desolate;  now  a  radiant 
mist  laced  it  with  glory.  The  air 
was  strewing  apple-blossoms  in  the 
path  of  summer;  now  it  drifted  in  to 
billow  the  curtains  and  lift  the  hair 
which  wove  a  splendor  round  a  won- 
dering face. 

Philip  thought  it  glowed  with  some- 
thing more  than  confusion — a  protest. 
Was  it  directed  at  his  entrance  or  the 
withered  hand,  still  aimed  in  warning  ? 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Shanks." 
He  had  bowed  and  half  withdrawn 
when  the  hand  lowered  into  a  greeting, 
barely  civil. 

[149] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

He  did  not  misconstrue  the  courtesy ; 
it  implied  only  the  reluctance  of  one  of 
a  vanishing  type  of  men  to  close  his 
door  against  a  fellow  being. 

"I  realize  it  all;  I've  forced  you  to 
yield  your  hand ;  I  shall  bother  you  no 
more." 

The  Incomparable  arose — slender, 
taller,  lovelier,  the  roses  in  her  white 
dress  mounting  to  her  cheeks.  A  glance 
of  remonstrance  which  her  grandfather 
did  not  see  and  she  crossed  the  room, 
extending  her  hand  to  Philip.  "Your 
success  has  made  us  happy — and  we 
wish  to  thank  you." 

He  gazed  as  upon  a  dream  ccme 
true,  till  she  withdrew  her  hand. 

"Demosthenes  should  not  have  come 
this  way,  Miss  King,"  he  began  with 
hesitation.  "He  did  not  know  that 
you  were  here — though  the  morning 
seemed  a  little  brighter.  Your  grand- 

[150] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

father  has  told  him  how  he  loves  you — 
not  with  words — for  he  belongs  to  that 
class  which  speaks  most  by  what  it  does 
not  say.  He  recalled  the  tenderest 
sacrifice — recalled  it  as  lightly  as  some 
recall  their  obligations — he  hurried  over 
it  as  essential  in  the  telling  of  a  tale. 

"This  house  has  been  very  kind  to 
this  Demosthenes;  your  grandfather 
saved  his  political  life  once  upon  a 
time,  and  this  Demosthenes  now  wishes 
him  health,  long  life — and  your  com- 
panionship." 

Shanks  placed  a  hand  upon  Philip's 
shoulder,  knitted  his  brows,  and  left 
the  room. 

"And  Miss  King  did  him  a  great 
favor — she  did  not  know  his  name;  he 
was  drifting  in  an  idle  current;  she 
lifted  him  out  of  it;  she  turned  his  face 
toward  the  East;  she  made  him  a  man 
— such  as  he  is — she  gave  him  ambi- 

[151] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

tion — she  had  it  to  spare — and  then  she 
gave  him  something  more — there  are 
some  who  think  it  more  than  all  else  on 
earth — and  it  would  have  lasted  had  he 
never  known  her. 

"When  he  saw  her  a  little  while  ago, 
he  thought  to  ask  her  to  go  to  Saddle- 
town.  If  she  would  be  so  kind,  he  said 
to  himself,  she  would  not  have  to  listen 
— but,  no — the  day  is  hot,  the  road  is 
dusty,  and  the  place  is  small — a  pump, 
a  shop,  and  a  handful  of  folks — it  is 
enough  for  Demosthenes  to  know  that 
this  Miss  King  really  lives  outside  the 
land  of  dreams — and  he  must  go." 

"Wait!"  commanded  Shanks  from 
the  shed.  Then  he  flung  the  old  door 
open  and  pointing  to  fresh  chalk  marks, 
cried:  "See,  Dan'l — I  rubbed  it  out — 
but  I've  put  it  back!" 

Madeline  turned,  her  bewilderment 
complete. 

[152] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"My  chile,  Dan'l  put  me  on  a  moun- 
tain-top, but  my  place  is  at  the  bottom 
— I  wuz  foolish  like  a  young  feller  'bout 
his  girl — an'  now  I  want  you  to  do  me 
a  favor — git  on  yer  things  an'  go  'long 
to  Saddletown!" 

They  had  gone  slowly  for  a  time 
when  Philip  explained  that  haste  was 
dusty.  The  Incomparable' s  sceptical 
glance  was  followed  by  her  grasping  the 
conversation. 

"I'm  homesick  for  the  city  already; 
I  wish  'Pap'  would  go  back  with 
me." 

Turning  to  survey  the  devastation 
wrought  by  this  remark,  something  in 
Philip's  face  caused  her  to  look  away. 

"You  like  that  life?" 

"Ah,  yes;  it  is  happiness;  it's  the 
market  where  the  world  brings  its  best 
— it's  the  universe!" 

[153] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

The  decisive  tap  she  gave  the  buggy 
stay  was  more  than  speech,  and  Philip 
surveyed  her  hand,  marvelling  that 
anything  so  delicate  could  deal  a  blow 
so  deadly. 

"The  dirt  is  flying  all  over  you!" 
He  tucked  the  lap-robe  round  her. 
"And  hadn't  I  better  put  up  the  rain- 
curtain?" 

"No — no!"  She  returned  the  robe 
with  a  kindliness  which  reminded  him 
of  the  morning-glory  vine.  "It  doesn't 
hurt  anyhow!"  She  pointed  to  the 
linen  coat  which  shielded  her  from 
throat  to  toe.  The  sailor  was  tilted 
forward  to  protect  her  eyes,  and  a  won- 
drous grrlishness  lingered  in  its  blue 
band.  Still  he  thought  its  shade  de- 
fective as  he  glanced  into  her  eyes. 

The  desire  to  bestow  some  homage 
proved  irresistible,  and  as  he  tied  a 
flaming  bandanna  round  her  neck,  a 

[154] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

strand  brushed  his  cheek;  he  was  as  a 
weary  pilgrim  anointed  by  spray  from 
a  consecrated  fountain — and  Com- 
rade wandered  into  a  fence  corner  to 
nip  the  tallest  grass. 

"What  is  the  hour  of  the  meet- 
ing?" She  lifted  her  head  with  smil- 
ing concern.  "You  had  better  let  me 
drive." 

He  yielded  the  lines  with  infinite 
security — she  did  not  know  the  magic 
spot  on  Comrade's  flank. 

He  was  drifting  toward  the  fairest  of 
shores  when  his  bark  encountered  as 
cruel  a  reef  as  ever  wrecked  a  tender 
meditation. 

"Of  course  you  like  Happyville  and 
will  always  stay;  you  have  been  very 
fortunate;  you  can  have  a  great  career 
— become  a  leader — reach  your  goal — 
that's  worth  while." 

How  worthless  it  all  seemed;    the 

[155] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

shouts  of  partisans  returned  to  taunt 
him,  and  out  of  the  home-coming 
issued  a  mighty  rocket  stick — dead — 
burnt  out. 

When  the  hope  of  the  first  lover 
died  and  he  was  led  to  the  petrified 
forest  of  Fame  and  offered  a  glorious 
monument — that  hapless  day,  Irony 
was  born. 

"Please  don't  speak  of  my  success. 
It's  nothing,  though  I  never  knew  it 
till  now.  Political  victory  proves  no 
quality — it  is  only  something  which 
happens;  there  is  sparse  merit  in 
political  ambition.  It  is  more  a  fever 
than  anything  else.  Command  the 
average  man  to  paint  an  'Ascension,' 
render  'Faust,'  write  another  'Lear,' 
or  wake  the  perfect  'Venus'  which 
sleeps  in  every  rock — he  will  tap  his 
forehead  and  pass  you  by;  but  let  the 
village  jester  observe  in  him  a  con- 

[156] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

stable — President — anything — he  flings 
his  homespun  off,  and  between  dawn 
and  dusk  looks  like  Cromwell,  walks 
like  Richelieu,  and  retires  a  fatalist  to 
dream  of  listening  senates." 

As  she  contemplated  his  despair  he 
was  tempted  to  tell  of  Old  Settlers' 
Day,  the  challenge  of  the  twins — his 
victory  over  such  overwhelming  odds — 
his  vision  of  the  phantom  train,  but 
a  strange  helplessness  sealed  his  lips. 
She  touched  his  arm  in  protest.  "Please 
don't  speak  like  that — you  said  I  was 
partly  responsible." 

"You  have  your  life  all  mapped 
out?" 

"Yes;  I  want  to  make  my  own 
money,  then  go  abroad  and  finish.  Oh, 
look ! "  she  cried  with  rapture.  "  Black- 
eyed  susans — a  world  of  them — I'm 
going  to  get  some." 

He  instantly  leaped  from  the  buggy. 

[157] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"I  didn't  see  that  barb-wire,"  she 
called  apologetically. 

"It's  nothing  at  all." 

"That's  enough!"  she  insisted  as  he 
continued  gathering  an  armful. 

The  return  was  less  dexterous;  he 
became  fastened  everywhere. 

"That  man  coming  will  surely  kill  his 
horse!"  She  pointed  down  the  road. 
Clasping  the  black-eyed  susans,  the 
crimson  statesman  in  the  fence  glanced 
upward  as  the  horseman  flourished 
upon  the  scene.  "You're  late,  Daniel 
— quartet's  sung  all  it  knows — local 
speakers  all  talked  out — people  getting 
tired — I'll  go  back  and  hold  them!" 
And  he  whirled  away. 

Philip  regained  his  freedom  at  the 
price  of  a  hole  in  his  coat,  but  thanked 
Heaven  for  it  when  the  Incomparable 
said:  "I'll  mend  it — I  used  to  know 
how."  Then  she  added  a  line  which 

[168] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

made  a  rent  more  difficult  to  mend: 
"Then  you'll  have  something  to  re- 
member me  by." 

With  reproach  heaped  upon  dejection 
he  urged  Comrade  to  surprising  speed. 

The  people  waited  and  were  rewarded. 
At  first,  Philip  was  "in  the  brush,"  as 
one  old  gentleman  whispered,  but  in  a 
little  while  he  calmed,  and  as  if  the 
start  had  been  only  for  the  sake  of 
contrast,  gradually  ascended  in  excel- 
lence till  he  stood  upon  the  plane  of  the 
inspirational  orator.  Opponents  who 
once  spoke  of  his  "flowery  nothings" 
now  praised  his  depth  of  understanding, 
and  old  admirers  were  borne  beyond 
discretion's  bounds.  That  speech 
placed  his  feet  in  the  road  to  higher 
things,  and  to  this  day  old  men  sit 
round  the  tavern  fire  at  Saddletown 
and  compare  it  with  triumphs  of  the 
early  times. 

[159] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

On  the  return  Comrade  was  turned 
this  way  and  that  to  avoid  young 
drivers,  eager  to  display  their  horses 
in  action.  Philip  knew  he  had  suc- 
ceeded, as  every  speaker  has  known,  be 
the  comment  good  or  bad.  He  now 
had  the  orator's  credentials;  he  could 
think  upon  his  feet;  he  would  never 
memorize  again. 

For  several  seconds  his  thoughts 
actually  left  the  fair  one  beside  him. 
They  talked  but  little;  they  were  near- 
ing  an  enchanted  land  where  intuitions 
bud  and  speech  is  not. 

Near  the  toll-house  she  held  up  a 
bursted  glove:  "That's  for  applause, 
Demosthenes!"  Had  he  analyzed  her 
face  he  would  have  seen  that  she  did  not 
consider  the  loss  irreparable,  but  in- 
stead of  devoting  himself  to  frivolities 
of  thought,  he  met  the  crisis  as  a 
statesman  should,  slowly  stripped  the 

[160] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

glove  from  her  hand  and  placed  it  in 
his  pocket. 

Then  he  added  with  tremendous 
seriousness:  "About  mending  the  coat 
— I  may  not  be  able  to  be  here  by  nine 
o'clock  in  the  morning — it  may  be  a 
whole  minute  after." 

He  placed  her  at  the  door,  then 
walked  over  to  the  dog. 

"Button, shake  hands  with  your  Con- 
gressman." 

Shanks  smiled.  "He's  my  pupil, 
you  know,"  boasted  the  Incomparable, 
smoothing  the  crumpled  ears. 

The  old  man  followed  Philip  to  the 
buggy.  "She  don't  care  fer  what  I  say, 
Dan'l — she  won't  clear  out  no  more — 
she's  come  to  stay — as  long  as  I  do." 

Philip  restrained  that  speed  which 
Comrade  always  developed  when  home- 
ward bound;  all  the  flying  orchard 
petals  fell  in  the  road  before  him,  but 

[161] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

when  at  last  Happyville  soared  into 
view,  it  disturbed  him.  He  had  found 
the  Incomparable — he  had  forgotten  to 
leave  this  matter  hi  the  Colonel's  charge. 
But  the  fear  which  tormented  most 
was  lest  his  benefactor  should  re- 
sent the  rising  intimacy  with  Shanks. 
He  would  go  straight  to  the  American 
House. 

"You  had  a  great  meeting!"  ex- 
claimed the  marshal  of  the  day;  "I 
read  success  all  about  you — but  tell  me 
— was  she  pleased  ? — and  has  my  an- 
cient station — master  of  the  heart  of 
Daniel — been  abolished?" 

"Who  in  the  world  told  you?" 

"The  A,  B,  C's  of  human  nature — 
I  knew  how  it  would  end  when  you 
took  the  Pisgah  road  instead  of  the 
other." 

"Why,  Colonel,  you  were  in  this 
very  room." 

[162] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"I  didn't  have  to  see  you;  one  of  the 
things  taught  at  West  Point  was  to 
figure  what  the  other  fellow  would  do 
— and  then  I  knew  you  could  be 
trusted — especially  after  Shanks  warned 
you  to  stay  away.  The  great  beauty 
about  it  is — you  didn't  lose  any  time — 
she  reached  Pisgah  less  than  half  an 
hour  before  you." 

The  Colonel's  manner  was  the  more 
exasperating  because  it  was  so  matter- 
of-fact. 

"When  did  you  see  her?" 

"Never  in  my  life,  Philip,  except  that 
day  in  the  runaway." 

"Colonel,  you  are  a  king  of  clay — 
and  a  prince  of  the  occult !  Won't  you 
go  to  Pisgah  some  time  ?" 

"No;   that's  a  dead  line!" 

Hardy  smoked  in  silence  for  a  time, 
then  said:  "I've  been  a  little  slow— a 
Cupid  shouldn't  have  the  rheumatism 

[163] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

— but  you  may  realize  some  day  that 
few  things  happen  too  early  or  too  late. 
I'll  help  you  in  politics  as  long  as  I  live, 
but  in  this  other  field,  I'm  now  at  my 
wits'  end;  I've  got  you  together;  I 
leave  it  to  you,  and  as  I  told  you, 
when  you  wanted  money  to  buy  stock 
in  a  circus,  it's  a  fine  business — good 
luck!" 

Philip  arose  to  leave,  but  turned  in 
the  doorway. 

"There's  something  else — I  men- 
tioned your  name  to  Mr.  Shanks  the 
other  day,  and  he  said  you  were  the 
finest  man  he  ever  met." 

The  warrior  cast  a  regretful  glance 
across  the  street,  then  faced  Philip 
with  great  decision:  "About  that  post- 
office  vacancy  at  Molly — I  believe 
I'd  choose  Milo  Sloppy;  he  named 
his  boy  after  you,  and  if  you  ap- 
point somebody  else,  he'll  change 

[164] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

that  name  to  George  Washington — 
God  only  knows  what  such  a  blow 
might  do!" 


[165] 


CHAPTER  VIII 

SOON    after    the   Incomparable's 
return  Shanks  showed  symptoms 
of  decline.     "If  a  feller's  in  bed 
— he's   sick!"    Thus  he  disposed   of 
the   doctor's    orders,    and    every    day 
found  him  on  the  porch,  rocking  with 
a  hand  on  Madeline's  chair,  or  spin- 
ning reminiscences  for  Philip  or  Mi- 
chael Halfpap. 

In  the  shade  of  the  morning-glory 
vine,  he  could  look  up  and  down  the 
road  and  straight  ahead,  dream  over  a 
scene  which  rose  and  fell  in  great  bil- 
lows, with  here  and  there  a  glimpse 
of  Pigeon  Creek,  the  top  of  the  covered 
bridge  to  the  right  and  the  old  "Deer 
Inn"  off  to  the  left — half  a  century  or 
more. 

[166] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

He  gazed  over  the  fields  when  they 
were  green,  and  again  when  they  had 
turned  to  checker-boards  of  green  and 
gold,  with  sunlight  and  shadow  sweep- 
ing over  them  like  great  birds.  He  saw 
the  feminine  grace  of  wheat,  casting  off 
its  snowy  cloak  to  run  and  play  with 
summer  wind,  till,  more  staid,  it  put  on 
countless  russet  bonnets  which  tossed 
in  the  breeze  like  golden  laughter. 

Before  him  was  the  sturdy  purpose  of 
the  corn,  from  the  time  it  peeped  like 
rabbits'  ears,  then  stood  erect,  and  as 
the  weeks  flew  past,  drew  from  its 
magic,  slender  stalk,  blades  of  emerald, 
husks  of  silver  and  of  lace,  rustling  up 
through  rain  and  warmth,  drawn  by 
summer  sky,  whispering  strange  com- 
mands, till  finally  it  flung  into  the  air 
the  tasselled  plumes  of  that  grand  army 
which  from  its  autumn  knapsack  feeds 
the  world. 

[167] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Through  it  all  the  old  gentleman  saw 
such  constancy,  he  asked  no  more  than 
to  be  a  little  part  of  nature's  dignity — 
to  blow  away  like  a  season — without 
pain  or  regret. 

"She  talks  big,  Dan'l,  but  ain't 
foolin'  me  with  this  speckilatin' — my 
ticket's  bought — carpet-sack's  packed 
— I'm  waitin'  fer  a  train  goin'  in  the 
right  direction — but  I'm  foolin'  her,  I 
'pear  to  take  it  all  in  an'  ast  fer  more — 
w'y,  I've  argified  a  hour,  I  cahilate,  as 
to  how  we'd  put  a  wide  porch  hyere — 
next  summer!"  He  emphasized  an- 
other year  as  if  it  were  a  century. 

There  was  a  sensation  when  she  de- 
creed that  he  put  on  linen ;  he  objected 
because  the  suits  had  no  vests.  He 
feigned  indignation  when  she  scattered 
mats  over  the  floor,  declaring  them 
"fit  neither  fer  man  to  walk  over  or 
dog  to  sleep  on!"  Then  the  crusade 

[168] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

reached  his  bed.  Philip  took  him  for 
a  walk  while  the  canopy  was  being 
placed  over  the  high-poster,  and  the 
old  man  beheld  it  with  delight  and 
patted  the  Incomparable's  head. 

One  could  not  have  been  deceived 
in  the  place,  of  course,  yet,  like  a  short 
man  walking  with  a  taller,  it  threw 
back  its  shoulders  to  keep  pace  with  the 
gentlemen  in  linen. 

The  room  to  the  south  was  Made- 
line's. It  used  to  be  rilled  with  rusty 
implements  and  old  harness ;  there  was 
a  corn-bin  in  the  corner;  weather- 
boarding  was  missing,  and  the  floor  had 
commenced  to  fall  away  from  the  rest 
of  the  establishment,  but  it  was  coaxed 
back.  Philip  and  Michael  painted  the 
walls  and  floor  after  doing  Shanks's 
apartment  in  white  to  match  the  cur- 
tains and  canopy.  An  old  blue-and- 
white  coverlet  was  draped  across  one 

[169] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

end  of  Madeline's  establishment,  and 
behind  this  was  the  "clothes-room"; 
and  her  wicker  trunks,  piled  where  the 
siding  threatened  to  depart  without 
ceremony,  became  a  bureau,  and  lent  a 
sea-island  splendor. 

And  the  old  shed — a  stove  was  in- 
stalled in  one  end,  a  dining-table  in  the 
other,  and  a  windlass  over  the  well,  half- 
way between.  The  ends  and  rear  were 
skeletonized  and  screened,  and  vines 
trained  up  to  ribbon  the  light,  while 
the  diner  looked  forth  upon  hollyhocks 
and  sun-flowers. 

The  hanging  gardens  of  Babylon 
may  have  been  something  like  it. 

The  whole  thing  should  have  been 
taken  to  an  exposition  to  show  what  a 
mere  girl — that  is,  one  of  a  certain  kind 
— can  accomplish,  for  to  make  Dilapi- 
dation smile  is  greater  art  than  to  paint 
a  leaf  which  will  deceive  the  wind. 

[170] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Birds  merely  nest  in  heroes'  statues; 
their  songs  are  for  those  who  practise 
sublimity  where  nothing  is  sublime; 
who  find  abounding  glory  in  adorning 
other  lives,  and  who,  if  there  be  no 
flowers,  surprise  common  grass  into 
better  beauty  still. 

The  sunlight  loved  that  old  shack; 
the  Incomparable  had  made  a  home 
— in  dialect. 

Button  confessed  dissent  the  day 
she  broomed  him  from  repose  beneath 
Shanks's  canopy,  but  soon  yielded  and 
followed  her  up  and  down  and  every- 
where. 

"That  bread  's  one  o'  her  solos, 
Dan'l!"  the  old  fellow  declared,  bowing 
to  the  other  end  of  the  table,  the  first 
day  Philip  dined  with  them.  "And  how 
do  you  like  your  position,  my  lady?" 

"Wouldn't  trade  it  for  anything, 
Pap.  You  wouldn't  believe  it,  Mr. 

[171] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Daniel,  but  the  city  is  terribly  behind 
Pisgah;  it  actually  treats  dogs  as 
Europe  once  treated  great  artists — 
makes  them  wait  for  the  second  table." 
She  leaned  toward  Shanks  so  irresist- 
ibly that  he  turned  to  his  "private 
secretary":  "Button,  you  rascal,  clear 
out;  don't  you  know  they's  comp'ny  ?" 

"Does  the  'Cannon  Ball'  often  whis- 
tle fer  a  stop,  Demosthenes?"  He 
chuckled  in  a  manner  utterly  unpar- 
donable at  the  table. 

"Oh,  have  some  of  this — or  this — I 
believe  something's  burning!"  The  In- 
comparable flew  to  the  kitchen,  whence, 
after  great  slamming  of  stove  doors, 
she  returned,  shaking  her  head  at  the 
offender. 

"Do  you  really  believe  they  will  re- 
vise the  tariff,  Mr.  Daniel?" 

Her  anxiety  would  have  done  credit 
to  a  captain  of  industry. 
[172] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"Stop  whur  you  air!"  Shanks  com- 
manded, with  knife  and  fork  upright 
upon  the  table. 

"Why,  Pap!" 

"It's  ag'in'  the  constitution — titles  o' 
nobility— *  Mr.  Dan'l'  an'  'Miss  King' 
— the  idy — an*  in  a  place  o'  on'y  two 
rooms  an'  a  half — an'  nuthin'  on  the 
floor  but  hay — either  quit  it  er  call  me 
'King,'  an'  Button  'Perfesser!'" 

Philip  insisted  on  supplying  a  thou- 
sand things,  and  made  a  determined 
stand  for  his  right  to  furnish  a  cook — 
a  suggestion  which  Madeline  promptly 
vetoed.  She  was  little  short  of  divine 
that  morning,  with  a  patch  of  flour  upon 
her  oven-flushed  face,  indignant  that 
any  one  should  have  questioned  her 
right  to  do  everything  for  her  grand- 
father. 

The  effect  was  not  lost  upon  Michael, 
who  bowed  his  lowest  to  observe:  "If 

[173] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

the  ancient  house  of  Halfpap  could 
have  its  way,  the  papers  would  soon 
be  filled  with  a  function,  which  for 
lilies  of  the  valley  would  surpass  any- 
thing ever  known  in  Happy ville!" 

For  the  first  time  the  gray  and  brown 
eye  reached  an  understanding. 

"That  being  the  case,"  replied  the 
Incomparable,  "you  may  pick  enough 
dandelions  for  a  bouquet — and  get 
fresh  water  for  them — and,  Philip,  if 
you've  filled  the  wood-box,  go  over  to 
Price's  for  the  milk." 

Shanks  paused  in  lighting  his  pipe: 
"Everybody's  got  to  do  sumpin'  round 
this  ranch — me  an'  Button  '11  do  the 
mind  work." 

She  was  arranging  Michael's  offering 
upon  the  porch  table  when  Philip  re- 
turned. "They  never  get  a  kind  word, 
but  go  right  on  forever  turning  the 
other  cheek  and  blooming  as  a  sky- 

[174] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

lark  sings."  She  stood  off  to  survey 
the  effect,  then  added  a  few  deft  touches 
and  sprinkled  their  golden  faces. 

She  never  left  the  place,  even  to  go 
to  Happyville,  except  the  day  they  took 
Shanks  to  the  circus. 

A  quiet  glory  ran  through  the  sum- 
mer, but  the  greatest  day  was  when 
Philip  took  the  old  man  to  see  Pigeon 
Creek  in  high  water.  He  drove  slowly 
going  home,  till  there  was  a  signal  which 
the  latter  did  not  see.  His  outbreak 
came  a  hundred  yards  from  the  house : 
"Stop — good  Lord — a  pi — an — er!" 

A  little  more  and  he  touched  the  lines : 
"Hoi'  up  a  spell,  Dan'l!"  He  listened 
till  the  last  words  died  away.  "Same 
weather;  same  song;  sounds  the  same 
as  the  day  the  woman  tuk  her  off." 

After  dinner  when  Shanks  was  asleep 
in  his  chair  Philip  led  the  Incompa- 
rable to  the  orchard. 
[175J 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

He  helped  her  up  the  stile  and  stood 
in  admiration,  as  she  swung  the  wide 
straw  hat  by  its  long  red  ribbons,  just 
a  quiver  in  her  cheek,  her  eyebrows 
lifted,  till  she  extended  a  hand.  "  Won't 
you  please  come  along?" 

She  made  a  sweeping  gesture: 

"I  take  possession  of  this  majestic 
region — two  acres  and  a  half — in  the 
name  of  my  august  sovereign — Milton 
Shanks!" 

She  plucked  a  beech  leaf.  "Permit 
me,  sir,  to  confer  this  badge  of  office 
— let's  see — what's  your  designation?" 

"  Gentleman-in-waiting ! " 

Seated  under  the  trees,  they  talked  of 
everything  but  the  theme  which,  let  us 
hope,  was  in  the  minds  of  both.  The 
thread  of  Philip's  discourse,  so  bravely 
begun  on  Decoration  Day,  lay  tangled 
in  his  brain.  Again  and  again  he  re- 
solved to  speak — carefully  shaped  the 

[176] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

words,  but  only  sat  in  silence,  or  uttered 
some  boneless  commonplace. 

The  Old  Settlers'  picnic — that  was 
ages  ago — the  phantom  train — it  was 
more  distant  still — and  once  when  a 
traction  engine  whistled  for  the  thresh- 
ers, he  thought  of  the  "Cannon  Ball" 
and  started  with  alarm. 

There  was  little  occasion  to  lament 
the  distance  between  them  as  she 
gazed  over  the  tree-tops  into  the  blue 
wonderland  of  a  perfect  summer  day, 
gentle  as  a  universal  soul,  as  through  it 
glided  snowy  ships  whose  voyages  were 
to  end  in  rain-drops.  The  bees  were 
in  the  elder  bloom ;  butterflies  staggered 
past  like  blossoms  running  off;  the 
drowsy  air  was  full  of  fragrant  things 
that  never  were;  over  the  meadow, 
cattle,  wedged  in  the  shade,  swung 
their  tails  in  sleepy  unison  and  fair 
Pisgahland  nodded  in  responsive  stu- 

[177] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

por — till  loose  bark  fell  at  the  orchard's 
edge  and  a  climbing  fox-squirrel  drew 
his  bushy  plume  round  and  round  a 
buckeye  tree,  pausing  not  till,  at  his  high 
front  door,  he  cast  one  glance  below 
and  plunged  within  to  bid  his  family 
banquet  on  a  nut,  and  doubtless  heed 
romantic  version  of  his  escape  from 
two  dreamers  far  beneath. 

She  looked  into  his  hat  and  read  the 
inscription  aloud: 

"The  Globe  of  Happy ville  and  New 
York!" 

Her  voice  seemed  filled  with  roses, 
which  he  promptly  persuaded  himself 
had  been  pressed  in  a  book  called 
"yesterday,"  then  he  thought  of  a 
sheaf  of  red  ones  in  the  county  atlas 
at  home. 

"I  wonder  what  it  would  be  like 
if  I  had  never  gone  away?"  She 
tied  the  long  red  ribbons  into  bows. 

[178] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"Over  life's  bridge  two  multitudes 
pass — one  of  country  boys  and  girls — 
with  eyes  on  steeples — the  other  of 
old  people — city-bowed — city-wrinkled 
— with  eyes  on  fodder  shocks.  We  must 
leave  everything  to  see  it  as  it  is — and 
everybody.  We  don't  reach  art  through 
nature,  but  nature  through  art — by  a 
longing  for  the  lost —  But  you're  not 
listening  to  my  fine  philosophy,  Philip; 
you're  looking  'way  over  yonder  at  that 
threshing-machine.  I've  often  wished 
I  had  lived  when  white  flour  was  a 
stranger — I  know  all  about  it,  you  see," 
she  added  with  a  smile  as  Philip  made 
bold  to  tender  a  surprised  glance. 

She  leaned  forward  to  clasp  But- 
ton's head. 

"Pap  and  nature  are  old  neighbors 
— he  told  me  of  the  trees  and  vines  and 
berries,  the  signs  of  long  winter  and 
early  spring,  the  phases  of  the  moon, 

[179] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

the  calls  of  birds,  the  ways  of  beasts; 
whenever  we  found  a  track  in  the  snow 
he'd  tell  me  what  made  it,  where 
it  was  going,  and  what  for.  He  told 
me  of  the  herbs  that  cured  the  fever; 
the  words  that  worked  charms;  the 
Indian's  curious  lore — how  the  youth 
rode  horseback  to  the  forest  dance 
— with  some  one  behind  him — both 
in  their  homespun,  proud  as  a 
mountain.  And  those  calls! — on  long 
winter  nights,  with  now  and  then  the 
screech  of  an  owl ;  he  would  fiddle  and 
cry  them  out  as  I  hopped  over  the 
floor,  and  pretend  it  was  a  grand  ball. 
"Pioneer  days — seed  corn  in  the 
rafters,  pumpkins  in  the  loft;  shot-gun 
in  the  corner;  almanac  hanging  by 
the  clock;  weather  talking  in  the  chim- 
ney, pedlers  coming  round  with  won- 
ders in  their  packs,  and  news  from  the 
far-off  world.  Education  was  sparse, 

[180] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

but  character  great;  manners  were 
simple,  but  so  were  hearts;  culture 
was  young,  but  hospitality  old;  they 
were  strong  and  impulsive  and  brave — 
they  were  people  worth  while;  the 
frontier  father  and  mother  were  making 
the  wilderness  polite  when  kings  and 
queens  were  making  throne-rooms  base. 
Ah,  Button,  these  are  poor  times!" 

Her  face  grew  perplexed.  "And  the 
zodiac — that  was  a  mystery — Pap 
would  say:  'We'll  plant  this  in  the 
Fish,  and  that  in  the  Twins." 

Philip  sat  upright:  "Did  he  put  any 
dependence  on  those  Twins?" 

"Oh,  they're  infallible  for  things 
which  grow  above  ground;  but  let's 
talk  of  something  else — of  politics,"  she 
added,  noting  his  blank  expression. 

"I  suppose  the  greatest  part  of  your 
success  was  the  home-coming;  do  you 
know  when  you  spoke  from  the  court- 

[181] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

house  steps  I  could  have  touched  you  ? 
— and  I  missed  the  train.  I  stayed  at 
the  hotel — whatever  made  landlord 
Lowden  name  his  rooms  after  States  ?" 

"Why,  it's  the  American  House." 

"Well,  I  spent  the  night  in  *  Texas'; 
it  was  hardly  large  enough  to  turn  in. 
He  is  a  fine  humorist — '  Rhode  Island ' 
is  the  largest  of  all." 

Philip  buckled  on  his  armor.  "In 
the  inside  pocket  of  my  coat  you  will 
find  a  souvenir  of  that  occasion  which 
is  not  for  sale." 

The  glance  she  gave  on  drawing 
forth  the  card,  "For  Demosthenes's 
mother,"  would  be  unforgetable  in  the 
life  of  a  race. 

"That  was  foolish;  I  was  irrespon- 
sible that  night — like  everybody  else. 
I  was  standing  in  your  yard  and  started 
to  present  those  roses  and  congratulate 
her  like  the  rest — but  I  gave  them  to  a 

[182] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

little  girl.  Tell  me,"  she  smiled  across 
the  sun-streaked  orchard  turf,  "are  you 
still  in  the  fire  department?" 

"Who  knows,  Madeline — but  for 
you  I  might  be  a  chief!  The  town 
could  have  burned  that  day  for  all  I 
cared — and  I  almost  missed  bidding 
you  good-by!" 

"That  would  have  been  very  ter- 
rible—Mr. Philip  Daniel ! ' '  She  shook 
her  head  solemnly. 

"I  walked  ten  miles  that  night,  then 
tossed  an  eternity;  I  dreamed  of  the 
Dead  Sea  giving  up  its  wasted  days; 
it  was  dotted  with  black  ships  which 
sailed  straight  toward  me,  then  glided 
suddenly  off.  Their  rigging  was  filled 
with  the  white  faces  of  disappoint- 
ments; broken  spars  floated  every- 
where, and  now  and  then  a  bony  hand 
clutched  them  from  beneath  the  water 
— and  when  I  awoke,  I  resolved  to  find 

[183] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

you  if  it  took  till  Doomsday,  and  it 
did — almost." 

"Please,  Philip — let's  just  go  on  be- 
ing improved  gypsies." 

"Don't  you  think  there  would  be  more 
money  in  sheep  if  they  were  clipped 
every  month  ?"  she  digressed  as  her  lonely 
investment  nibbled  nearer.  "Wool  on 
the  back  seems  such  idle  capital." 

She  began  with  a  tone  of  thrift,  but 
turned  away. 

"I  feared  this — you  were  so  different 
awhile  ago  when  I  gave  you  that  leaf 
— I  wouldn't  hurt  you  for  anything — 
but  I  suppose  this  had  to  come." 

She  leaned  against  the  tree  and  gazed 
into  the  boughs. 

"Oh,  to  drift  and  drift  and  never 
touch  a  shore — as  time  does — and  the 
world — that  must  be  what  Paradise  is. 
Philip,  I'm  unhappy — don't  you  think 
he's  failing — very  fast?" 

[184] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"Yes — every  day." 

They  silently  contemplated  a  great 
change — one  against  which  both  had 
closed  their  eyes  till  now.  From  the 
fall  of  every  house,  whether  castle  by 
the  Rhine  or  lean-to  by  the  pike,  issues 
that  sentiment,  without  which  autumn 
would  be  only  color-wild.  There  is 
aloofness  in  lonely  columns  of  old 
temples;  they  stand  in  the  climate  of 
the  stars,  clasping  Fable's  pale  flowers ; 
answering  speculation  with  awe — dis- 
dainful of  what  is — Desolation's  fine 
aristocrats.  But  chimneys  in  roadside 
weeds  bid  one  heed  Oblivion's  folk-lore 
— hope  and  fear,  faded  moons,  mirth's 
dead  laughter,  pleasure's  spectre,  loves 
that  are  dust,  mortals'  vapor-ending 
question — "Whither?" — all  drifting  in 
the  amber  of  old  afternoons. 

"And  you  will  remain,  Philip — till  it 
is  all  over?" 

[185] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"I  will  remain  always — if  you  will 
let  me." 

She  turned  to  the  western  sky;  the 
old  Painter  had  taken  his  station  in  the 
Venice  Hills,  wrought  a  sea  of  pearl, 
piled  its  shores  with  purple  cities,  and 
blown  across  its  bosom  the  swelling 
sails  of  innumerable  golden  craft. 

"And  to  think,  Philip — that  grand 
old  fellow  has  been  doing  it  forever — 
in  jungles — in  lands  of  ice — where  none 
could  see — and  he,  with  soul  enough  to 
worship  such  a  master,  has  been  called 
*  pagan' — and  by  human  specks  who 
ask  applause." 

"May  I  speak  of  anything  I 
wish?" 

"Anything." 

"You  were  twelve  when  you  went 
away — did  you  ever  notice  anything 
about  your  grandfather — anything 
strange?" 

[186] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"It  makes  it  seem  alive  to  have  you 
mention  it." 

"He  told  you  the  Vicksburg  story?" 

"Many  times." 

"What  caused  him  to  believe  it?" 

"I  only  know  that  long  before  I  was 
born  something  happened  which  has 
followed  him  ever  since.  One  day,  as 
far  back  as  I  can  remember,  he  took 
me  to  Happyville,  and  as  we  turned 
into  the  public  square,  there  was  a 
soldier's  funeral,  and  he  turned  and 
drove  away  as  hard  as  he  could,  and 
didn't  go  back  for  a  year. 

"That  night  I  was  awakened  by  a 
cry;  it  was  the  name  *  Joseph';  I 
listened  and  heard  it  again,  and  look- 
ing across  the  room  in  the  moonlight, 
I  saw  him  sitting  up  in  bed  with  arms 
outstretched.  I  spoke  and  he  awoke 
and  said:  'My  boy  came  to  visit  me — 
but  he  couldn't  stay — don't  be  fright- 

[187] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

ened — your  grandpap  was  only  dream- 
ing/ 

"He  half  promised  to  tell  me  once; 
it  was  a  summer  night  when  I  was 
little.  I  had  crawled  into  the  fire- 
place to  look  up  at  the  stars.  I 
squinted  my  eye  and  there  was  a  gleam 
of  light,  extending  clear  to  heaven,  and 
I  asked:  'Who  put  the  stars  into  the 
flag  ? '  He  dropped  his  paper  and  said : 
'What  do  you  know  about  any  flag, 
child?'  I  crept  out  and  took  a  faded 
little  one  out  of  the  Bible;  it  was  of  silk 
— no  larger  than  a  handkerchief ;  it  was 
wrapped  round  an  old  letter.  He  rubbed 
his  spectacles  and  seemed  surprised  and 
said:  'Why,  it  is  a  flag,  but  it's  like 
you — it  isn't  big  enough  to  count'; 
then  he  caught  me  up  and  held  me 
tightly  and  rocked  the  longest  time  and 
said:  'You  want  to  know  who  put  the 
stars  in  the  flag — the  best  men  that 

[188] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

ever  lived — and  the  best  women,  too — 
they  put  them  there,  and  kept  them 
there — now  lay  it  away,  and  some  day 
it  will  be  yours/ 

"As  I  grew  older,  strange  ques- 
tions came  to  me  from  somewhere,  and 
there  seemed  to  be  something  about 
him — at  times  almost  at  his  side/' 

She  glanced  toward  the  sunset  and 
her  tone  was  of  infinite  sadness:  "How 
it  has  all  changed!" 

The  western  glory  had  withered  into 
endless  volcanic  wastes,  with  sightless 
objects  frozen  to  the  jagged  limbs  of 
trees  long  dead — and  with  ashes  sifting 
down. 

She  arose  slowly. 

"That  thing  by  his  side  was  gray — 
as  it  is  off  yonder. 

"When  the  day  comes,  Philip, 
for  us  to  leave  this  dear  place,  I 
must  go  and  sit  down  with  Nature, 

[189] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

all  alone;  she  will  me  tell  every- 
thing— everything  you  and  I  should 
know — she  will  tell  it,  whether  good 
or  bad — for  she  will  be  my  only  kin." 

"And  I?" 

"Be  a  leader;  I  shall  always  watch 
you;  it  was  a  revelation  the  day  you 
spoke  to  the  people  of  Saddletown 
— you  were  some  one  else — you  were 
everybody — and  when  I  could  think 
at  all,  I  said:  'He  can  accomplish 
anything!" 

Her  face  was  flooded  with  a  light 
such  as  he  had  never  seen. 

"Madeline,  I  didn't  speak  to  the 
people  of  Saddletown  that  day — I 
spoke  to  one  who  had  never  lived  in 
Saddletown  at  all — no  one  else  was 
there — I  should  have  seen  them." 

As  she  turned  toward  him,  a  little 
monarch  whose  reign  is  as  old  as 
time  marched  into  her  cheek  and 

[190] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

flung  his  crimson  mantle  open;  her 
eyes  widened,  her  lips  parted;  the 
earth  flew  faster,  and  there  were 
wonders  never  told  by  shepherds; 
deserts  tossed  with  all  the  roses 
that  ever  bloomed  and  died;  the 
Dead  Sea  awoke;  the  waves  laughed 
and  tossed  golden  spray  into  each 
other's  faces,  then  they  ran,  hurry- 
ing to  shore  to  sing  to  the  everlast- 
ing sands — all  in  one  immortal,  tender 
instant ! 

The  faint  notes  of  a  supper-bell 
came  up  the  hollow. 

"Listen,  Philip;  we  must  go." 

"Feller  left  a  present  fer  you,  Mad," 
Shanks  began,  as  they  appeared. 

"Who  was  he?" 

"Don't  know;  he  lukt  suspicious- 
like;  it's  at  yer  plate." 

In  a  moment  she  came  out  with  a 

little  silk  flag. 

[191] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

She  framed  the  old  man's  face  in  her 
hands : 

"I've  always  felt  that  away  down  in 
your  heart  there  was — something  glori- 
ous— and  that  some  day  you  would  tell 
me — hold  still  till  I  pin  this  rose  on 
your  coat." 

"Why,  chile — how  you  talk.  Come 
hyere,  Button,  they's  a  burr  hi  yer  ear." 


[192] 


CHAPTER  IX 

MIDNIGHT  the  following  month, 
Philip  flew  up  the  steps  to  Colo- 
nel Hardy's  room.  "Shanks 
has  had  a  stroke  and  wants  to  see  you ; 
something  is  on  his  mind;  the  doctor 
says  he  may  go  like  that!"  Philip 
snapped  his  fingers. 

"My  young  friend,  I'd  go  in  spite 
of  vow  and  everything  if  it  would  do 
any  good."  Hardy  twisted  his  watch- 
chain  and  walked  up  and  down.  Then 
he  stepped  quickly  to  the  closet, 
drew  forth  an  old  military  cloak, 
pulled  a  slouch  hat  over  his  eyes, 
and  motioning  to  Philip,  passed  out 
of  the  door. 

As  they  drove  through  the  fog  Philip 
had  never  known  his  companion  so 

[193] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

silent;  he  had  but  a  monosyllable  even 
at  mention  of  his  favorite  foes. 

At  last  a  pale  light  fell  down  the  hill, 
and  as  Philip  tied  the  horse,  Hardy 
stood  waiting  to  be  led. 

Philip  looked  through  the  window 
and  touched  the  Colonel's  arm. 

The  candle  on  the  clock  shelf  was 
like  a  lily  in  the  gloom,  its  rays  trem- 
bling off  into  gray.  Shanks  was  in  his 
chair,  propped  with  pillows,  a  white 
blanket  round  his  shoulders;  his  face 
rested  in  the  hand  which  was  free,  and 
as  he  glanced  into  the  fire  they  seemed 
to  be  fading  away  together. 

He  turned  to  smile  as  Madeline  en- 
tered from  the  shed,  and  when  the  long 
wisp  of  hair  fell  from  behind  his  ear, 
she  brushed  it  back. 

As  one  who  goes  to  sea  beholds  the 
rudeness  of  the  shore  melt  into  the 
image  of  his  regret,  so  this  tired  spirit 

[194] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

saw  the  medley  of  old  nights  and  days 
merge  into  the  sweet  face,  the  lustrous 
eyes,  the  fine  calmness  of  the  Incom- 
parable as  her  hand  crossed  his  fore- 
head again  and  again. 

He  had  heard  the  horse;  he  knew  it 
brought  one  who  had  been  his  insepa- 
rable companion  till  young  manhood; 
he  was  about  to  lift  the  sheet  from  off 
some  mystery,  and  then,  perhaps  that 
friendship  would  come  back  from  the 
other  end  of  his  life. 

But  there  was  no  token  of  specula- 
tion; Shanks's  expression  was  more 
than  one  of  peace  after  weariness;  it 
was  that  crumbling,  elemental  some- 
thing which,  from  the  beginning  of  the 
world,  has  come  into  the  faces  of 
doubters  and  believers  as  their  names 
have  been  called  from  out  the  shadows. 

Had  his  Pilot  issued  from  the  fire, 
the  feeble  hermit  would  have  risen 

[195] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

with  the  greeting :  "  Which  way,  friend  ? 
— come  along,  Button." 

The  Colonel  pointed  to  the  dog 
lying  with  his  head  upon  his  master's 
feet.  "Look,  he  knows  it  all." 

"Thank  you  fer  comin',"  Shanks  be- 
gan as  they  entered.  "Dan'l,  take  the 
cheer  by  the  table.  I  want  to  tell  you 
sumpin' — an'  hurry." 

His  impatience  was  such  as  reckons 
with  a  storm. 

"Write  it  as  I  say  it — an',  Madeline, 
put  some  mullen  in  my  pipe — ain't  had 
none  all  day." 

His  lips  parted  and  closed  in  dry 
smacks;  his  face  relaxed. 

"It's  a  long  tale — an'  a  long  time — 
over  forty  year;  I  lived  on  the  border 
like  an'  had  a  friend  by  the  name  o' 
Hardy — we  ust  to  call  him  'Elephant' 
— an'  I  had  a  boy,  too — but  I'm  ahead 

[196] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

o*  my  story.  This  Hardy  wuz  in  the 
reg'ler  army,  but  he  left  it  'cause  they 
wuz  no  fightin'  an'  come  back  to  run  the  * 
mill.  When  war  come  he  fetched  the 
word  to  my  house.  It  wuz  later'n  this, 
I  cahilate,  the  night  he  tapped  at  my 
winder,  an'  a-leanin*  frum  his  saddle, 
says:  'Milt,  let's  raise  a  regiment.' 

"Elephant,  er  Hardy,  that  is/  sez 
I:  'good-by,  I'm  ag'in'  the  war  that's 
comin' — I'm  fer  the  South — damn  the 
North  an'  them  that's  fer  it!' 

"He  leant  fur  dowrn  frum  his  roan 
mare,  an'  sez  he :  'I  don't  like  to  hyear 
you  say  that — even  in  fun — a-havin' 
knowed  Lincoln  as  you  ust  to — an'  it 
ain't  no  time  when  Sumter's  fell!' 

"It  ain't  no  badgerin',  Elephant,' 
sez  I — '  but  sure  enough — I'm  as  solemn 
as  Abraham  a-leadin'  Isaac  to  the  sac- 
rifice— Lincoln — why,  he's  on'y  a  in- 
strument in  the  devil's  hand!' 

[197] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"At  that  Hardy  drawed  back  an' 
galloped  off — an*  we  ain't  done  no 
talkin'  since." 

He  paused  a  moment. 

"Hardy  tuk  a  vow  to  support  his 
country — I  tuk  one  to  destroy  it — he 
fought  fer  the  flag  an'  I  cursed  it." 

For  the  first  time  the  old  men  looked 
each  other  in  the  face;  into  the  Colo- 
nel's eyes  drifted  war-clouds  from  the 
far  sky  of  half  a  century,  while  Shanks 
smiled  and  was  white. 

"It  wuz  a  great  day  in  ole  Millville 
when  Hardy's  Comp'ny  marched  off. 
They  had  dinner  at  the  *  Brethren' 
Church,  an'  my  woman  an'  the  rest 
give  a  flag  they'd  made,  an'  they  wuz 
speakin'  an'  carr'in's  on.  Hardy  tuk 
that  flag — I  kin  hyear  him  now : '  When 
we  bring  this  back,'  sez  he,  'they  won't 
be  no  spots  on  it  'less  they's  red  ones ' — 
an'  they  wuzn't.  Long  'bout  sundown 

[198] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

the  fife  an'  drum  struck  up  an'  they 
formed — chil'run  wundrin',  women 
wringin'  hands,  an'  ole  vets  o'  the  War 
o'  '12  a-totterin'  'long  the  line  a-wishin' 
they  could  go,  a-sheddin'  hickory  tears, 
an'  a-shoutin'  out:  'God  bless  you,  boys 
o'  Millville — an'  give  'em  hell!' 

"When  my  boy  Joey  wriggled  out 
o'  his  mother's  arms,  she  leant  ag'in'  the 
fence  an'  they  fanned  her — Joey  wuz 
a  lieutenant,  you  know — an',  my  God — 
he  lukt  like  a  soldier! 

"I  didn't  dare  face  him;  I'd  left 
home  'fore  it  wuz  sun-up,  an'  crawled 
into  the  thicket,  an'  laid  there  all  day, 
an'  seen  everything,  an'  when  they  give 
the  word:  'For'erd  march!'  I  edged 
clear  up  by  the  road,  an'  as  they 
tromped  up  to  the  covered  bridge  over 
Injun  Crick,  I  could  most  'a'  teched 
'em.  I  watched  the  line  till  it  wuz  out 
o'  sight — an'  then  I  got  up  an'  leant 

[199] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

ag'in'  the  fence  an'  watched  the  dust  till 
it  wuz  all  gone — an'  little  boys  acrost 
the  road  begun  a-singin'  out:  *  We'll 
hang  Milt  Shanks  on  a  sour  apple  tree.' 

"My  woman  never  said  a  word  when 
I  come  home ;  it  wuz  like  my  ghost  wuz 
there.  Well,  us  *  Knights  o'  the  Golden 
Circle '  met — an'  they  wuz  lots  uv  us ;  we 
sent  help  to  the  '  Johnnies, '  an'  pizened 
cattle,  an'  burnt  the  places  o'  women 
left  alone.  We  plotted  insurrection— 
an'  I  went  to  Richmon',  Virginny,  twict. 

"Time  went  on  an'  Vicksburg  come, 
an'  one  night  a  feller  galloped  out  to 
Millville  jist  at  dusk  an'  hitched  to  the 
ole  sycamore  by  the  milk-house. 
'  When'd  you  hyear  frum  Joe  ? '  sez  he. 

"'Last  week,'  sez  I. 
"How  wuz  he?'   sez  he,   a-foolin' 
round,  a-tightenin'  up  his  girth. 

"'All  right,'  sez  I. 
"Joe's  dead!'  sez  he. 

[200] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"My  woman  jist  ketched  her  breath, 
tuk  her  Bible,  shet  her  jaws,  set  by  the 
winder  an'  sed  nuthin';  neighbors  come 
but  she  didn't  notice  'em  'cept  to  say: 
'Take  the  little  girl'— Madeline's 
mother,  you  know — 'off  to  stay  all 
night  an'  leave  me  'lone/ 

"I  kin  see  that  woman  yit  a-lukin' 
out  over  the  clearin'  an'  beyant  like— 
to'ard  the  South.  After  dark,  I  got  up 
to  go. 

'"Not  to-night!'  sez  she.  'Don't 
stay  fer  me — but  as  you  prize  yer  soul's 
salvation,  the  ghost  o'  yer  boy  '11  smite 
you — an'  you  ain't  fit  to  die!' 

"I  got  toi'  sez  I.  I  leant  over  to 
tech  her,  but  she  drawed  away,  a-trem- 
blin'  an'  a-sayin':  'Fer  God's  sake, 
Milton  Shanks,  yer  unclean!' 

"That  night  we  stole  fifty  horses;  I 
wuz  gone  till  after  midnight,  an'  when 
I  come  home  I  luked  frum  fur  down 

[201] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

the  field  an'  the  winder  wuz  a-shinin' 
but  not  frum  the  moon  as  much  as  the 
face  that  wuz  in  it,  an'  I  shuk  like  the 
ager,  an'  the  ole  sycamore  I'd  passed 
a  thousand  times  turned  to  things  tur- 
rible  'fore  my  eyes.  Fin'ly  I  went  in, 
an'  the  woman  kep'  a-lukin'  out,  an'  I 
sez  sumpin',  but  she  didn't  make  no 
stir,  an'  it  wuz  the  strangest  stillness  I 
ever  heerd.  I  started  over  to'ard  her 
when  a  voice  come  out  o'  nothin'  at  all 
— an'  it  sez:  'Don't — she's  mine!' 

"It  wuz  so  plain  I  called  out,  but 
they  wuz  no  answer,  an'  I  lit  a  bunch 
o'  husks  that  wuz  fer  kindlin'  an'  I 
held  them  up.  Her  head  wuz  a-restin' 
like — back  ag'in'  the  tidy — an'  she  luked 
glad — an'  I  crawled  over  on  my  knees. 
She'd  gone  to  jine  Joey. 

"Then  they  WTILZ  a  whistle — an'  three 
more — an'  I  went  down  whur  fellers 
with  masks  wuz  an'  I  tole  'em  the  road 

[202] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

to  take  to  kill  the  Guv'ner  on  his  way 
to  the  speakin'  next  day. 

"They  fetched  Joey  home,  an*  the 
two  was  buried  same  time — I  went  to 
the  church  a-wearin'  a  *  Copper  Head' 
badge  on  my  coat;  it  wuz  filed  out  uv 
a  ole-fashioned  cent.  But  instead  o' 
trouble  they  wuz  all  strange-like  an' 
kind  'cept  when  I  went  up  to  luk  at 
Joey,  a  soldier  feller  led  me  off. 

'"I  wuz  with  him  when  he  fell,' 
sez  he.  *  Jist  'fore  he  died  he  gasped 
out:  "God  bless  my  mother  an'  sister 
— but  if  you  take  me  back,  don't  let  him 
see  me — if  he'd  on'y  a-fought  on  the 
other  side — yes,  I'd  'a'  bin  proud  if 
he'd  'a'  bin  one  uv  'em  'at  shot  me." 

"  *  How  did  he  fall  ? '  sez  I.  The  sol- 
dier feller  straightened  up  proud-like, 
an'  sez  he :  '  Major  Joseph  Shanks,  my 
commander,  sir,  fell  gran' — horse  shot 
— leapt  up  like  a  tiger — hat  a-wavin' 

[203] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

on  his  sword — led  the  charge  afoot — 
planted  the  flag  the  ladies  give — planted 
it  on  the  parapet  with  his  own  hand — 
an'  a  whole  squad  shot  him  in  his 
tracks — but  they  wuz  soldiers,  sir— 
they  sez:  "Come  an'  git  him,  boys" — 
an'  they  tuk  off  their  hats  an'  cheered 
as  we  carried  him  down  the  field. 
Grant  seen  it  through  his  glass,  an'  sez 
he:  "He's  a  Colonel  if  he  gits  back!'" 

"I  wanted  to  take  that  black  box 
with  the  flag  on  it — take  it  in  my  arms 
an'  run  straight  on  ferever — an'  a-goin' 
out,  I  tried  to  edge  round  to  luk  jist 
onct,  but  the  soldier  feller  wuz  a-watchin' 
an'  he  stepped  in  a-sayin' :  *  I'm  sorry, 
but  a  promise  to  a  cum'erd  that's  dead 
-that's  diff'rent  like.' 

"A  drink,  please,  Mad'lin. 

"Have  some,  Hardy?" 

The   Colonel   looked  clear  through 
him  without  seeing  and  made  no  reply. 

[204] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

He  swallowed  audibly,  and  slowly 
licked  his  lips. 

"Now  then — when  that  soldier  feller 
said  that,  all  the  light  an'  all  the  stars 
busted  in  my  eyes — I  fell  down  on  the 
floor  o'  the  church,  an'  then  I  had  the 
fever  an'  it  hung  on  a  long  spell,  an' 
'fore  the  Millville  boys  come  back,  I 
tuk  my  little  girl  an'  cleared  out — an' 
come  hyere." 

Throughout  the  recital  Colonel  Har- 
dy's impatience  had  been  manifest,  but 
he  had  weighed  humanity's  duty  to  a 
passing  life,  and  then  he  was  unwilling 
to  add  a  straw  to  the  burden  of  Madeline 
as  she  sat  crushed  by  the  story  of  treason. 
The  room  was  closed ;  the  air  saturated 
with  mullein;  the  Colonel  had  backed 
against  the  wall ;  he  could  stand  no  more. 

"Wait  a  minute — hyear  me  through 
— you  won't  be  sorry,  mebbe — I  got  to 
tell  it  in  my  own  way." 

[205] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

The  Colonel  made  a  low  bow  to 
the  Incomparable  which  she  did  not 
see.  His  hand  was  upon  the  latch. 

"Then  luk  at  this  an'  you  may  find 
time  to  stay  a  spell,"  cried  Shanks, 
handing  him  a  time-yellowed  letter. 

Hardy  read,  then  backed  against  the 
door  with  arms  outstretched,  cast  his 
cane  upon  the  bed,  and  spoke  in  the 
lowest  tone  he  was  ever  known  to  use: 

"My  God — who's  crazy — you  or  I!" 

Philip  drew  the  paper  from  his  hand, 
then  he  and  Madeline  read  it  together: 

EXECUTIVE  MANSION, 
WASHINGTON,  April  II  Ih,  1865. 
MR.  MILTON  SHANKS, 

Millville,  - 

DEAR  MILT:  Lee's  surrender  ends 
it  all.  I  cannot  think  of  you  without  a 
sense  of  guilt, — but  it  had  to  be. 

I  alone  know  what  you  did — and 
even  more — what  you  endured.  I  can 

[206] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

not  reward  you;  man  cannot  reward 
anything  worth  while — there  is  only 
One  who  can. 

I  send  you  a  flag  handkerchief;  it 
is  not  new  but  you  will  prize  it  the  more 
for  that. 

I  hope  to  shake  your  hand  sometime. 
Your  friend, 

A.  LINCOLN. 

Shanks  alone  was  able  to  speak,  and 
he  was  calm. 

"Elephant" — he  used  the  name  with 
assurance — "do  you  recollec'  the  time 
you  druv  me  to  the  train  in  the  March 
o'  '61?" 

"Very  well;  you  went  to  look  at 
cattle." 

"That's  what  I  tole  you."  His  eyes 
brightened.  "I  wuz  called  to  Washin'- 
ton  by  Lincoln,  an'  at  night,  after  the 
last  feller  left  he  tuk  me  up  to  the 
lib'ary  an'  sez  he:  'It's  a-goin'  to  take 
all  kinds  o'  men  to  save  the  Union.' 

[207] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Then  he  walked  over  to'erd  a  winder 
an'  without  turnin'  round,  sez  he: 
'Milt,  how  much  do  you  love  yer 
country?' 

"'I  cahilate  I'd  die  fer  it!'  sez  I. 

"He  shambled  down  in  a  cheer  an' 
wrapped  his  legs  round  each  other  like 
a  wild  grape-vine,  an'  after  a  spell,  sez 
he :  '  Recollec'  when  you  wuz  a  boy  an' 
I  helped  yer  father  clear  that  eighty  by 
the  crick — well,  one  mornin'  when  it 
wuz  cold  an'  blowin'  snow — mud  axle- 
deep — an'  church  four  mile  off — yer 
mother  called  yer  little  sister  Frances, 
an' sez  she:  "It's  Lent;  it  ain't 'nough 
to  love  the  Lord;  you'd  ought  to  give 
up  sumpin'." 

'  Well,  Frances  lukt  out  at  the  team 
a-shiverin'  an'  sez  she:  "Guess  I'll 
give  up  the  church." 

"At  this,  Lincoln  got  up  an'  stood 
a-flappin'  the  tails  uv  a  long  gown  ag'in' 

[208] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

the  fire-place  an'  laughed  an'  laughed, 
then  purty  soon  a  cloud  come  over  his 
face,  an'  he  begun  awful  slow  like: 

"'The  South's  a-sayin'  she'll  git 
yer  State  an'  bust  us  in  two.  O' 
course  she  can't,  but  them  woods  o' 
yourn  is  full  o'  bad  men,  an'  they'll  git 
worse — Milt,  it  ain't  'nough  fer  you  to 
jist  die — thousan's  o'  boys  is  a-cryin' 
to  do  that — you  must  give  up  sumpin' 
more'n  life.' 

"'Try  me,'  sez  I. 

"Lincoln  run  his  hands  through  his 
hair  an'  went  on: 

"'It  means  to  be  odious  in  the  eyes 
o'  men  an'  women — it  means  to  eat 
yer  own  heart,  fer  you  can't  tell  wife  ner 
chile — you  must  play  it  out  if  it  takes 
the  hide — I  want  you  to  jine  them  cow- 
ardly devils — be  the  worst  uv  'em — be 
their  leader — I  need  you,  Milt,  yer 
country  needs  you.' 

[209] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"It  hadn't  bin  a  minute  since  he 
wuz  a-laughin',  but  when  he  lifted  his 
hands  it  seemed  we  wuz  the  on'y 
folks  in  the  world,  an*  yit  he  wouldn't 
'a'  woke  a  baby  a-sleepin'  in  that  room. 

"Til  do  it,'  sezl. 

"Then  he  tuk  a  little  flag  out  o'  his 
pocket  an'  put  it  on  the  table,  an'  sez 
he:  ' Come  hyere,  Milt,  I'll  muster  you 
into  the  service  as  my  friend' — an'  he 
put  my  hand  on  that  flag — whur  the 
blue  wuz — an'  all  the  stars — an'  then 
he  put  his  hand  on  mine  an'  said 
nuthin'. 

"They  wuz  never  a  meetin'  o'  them 
devils  I  didn't  'tend,  an'  the  times  I 
went  to  Richmon',  Virginny — that  wuz 
to  talk  'bout  openin'  the  Union  prisons 
—an'  I  reported  it  all  to  Lincoln — at 
night. 

"It  wuz  tumble  when  I  couldn't  tell 
the  boy  when  he  marched  off;  an'  when 

[210] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

that  soldier  feller  wouldn't  let  me  see 
his  face,  sez  I  to  myself:  *  They 're  all 
dead ;  I'll  jist  keep  still — it's  mine — all 
the  hate  an'  all  the  ctissinY  an'  it  got  to 
be  so  when  some  feller  'ud  stone  a  dog 
I'd  be  jealous  o'  that  dog — an'  I  kep' 
a-thinkin'  o'  Joey  at  Vicksburg,  an'  I 
kep'  a-dreamin'  o'  Joey  at  Vicksburg, 
till  I  come  to  think  I'd  tuk  it  all  by 
myself. 

"I'd  'a'  kep'  that  vow  an'  held  a 
tight  lip  an'  let  the  lamp  blow  out,  but 
when  this  hitch  come  in  my  side,  I  got 
to  thinkin'  o'  Mad'line — how  fine  she 
wuz — an'  what  she'd  be  some  day — a 
gran'  singer — an'  how  folks  down  at 
Millville  'ud  be  a-claimin'  uv  her 
through  her  kin,  an'  sumpin'  said  sharp 
like:  'Mebbe  some  feller  '11  up  an' 
say :  "  Yep,  she's  got  traitor  blood  " ' — 
an'  that — that  wuz  the  on'y  thing  I 
couldn't  stand!" 

[211] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

The  Incomparable  sank  upon  her 
knees,  her  arms  round  his  neck.  In  a 
little  while  she  lifted  her  face:  "And 
you — you  are  my  grandfather! — I 
would  rather  be  yours  than  have  in 
my  veins  the  blood  of  a  hundred 
kings — and  all  of  them  Alfreds!" 

Shanks  smiled  upon  her  for  an  in- 
stant. "Mad'line,  fill  my  pipe. 

"Now,  I'll  sign  my  name. 

"On'y  one  thing  more — Dan'l,  keep 
that  an'  read  it  at  my  buryin' — that's 
the  place — an'  read  it  without  no 
frills." 

The  Colonel  was  leaning  forward  like 
a  great  mastiff,  with  shaggy  head  upon 
his  hands,  folded  above  the  cane.  It 
seemed  a  long  time  he  sat  that  way  and 
a  mist  came  from  the  war-clouds 
which  had  drifted  out  of  the  far  sky  of 
half  a  century. 

"Milt,"  he  said  as  best  he  could, 

[212] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"the  soldiers  were  just  common  stuff — 
the  wine  of  war  is  wild — it's  from  a 
frozen  grape;  it  sets  men  crazy  and 
they  want  to  die.  I've  seen  boys  that 
should  have  been  upon  their  mothers' 
knees  pet  a  cannon  like  it  was  a  baby, 
and  when  an  arm  was  hanging  mangled. 
I've  seen  them  go  up  and  shout  into 
the  ear  of  death:  'Take  me,  damn 
you — if  you  can!'  That's  fine,  but  it 
isn't  the  best  that's  in  folks.  I've 
asked  myself  many  times  who  did  the 
most.  I've  had  the  skeletons  all  stand 
up — among  them  was  the  skeleton  of  a 
prisoner  who  had  died  day  by  day — toes 
fell  off;  reason  ran  away;  no  glory  in 
it — nothing  but  oblivion.  The  other 
side  said  to  him:  'Come  and  be  free!' 
But  he  said  back:  'To  hell  with  you 
and  your  flag! — I'll  starve;  I'll  chat- 
ter first!'  I  said  to  that  skeleton: 
'You're  the  best!'— but,  Milt,  I've 

[213] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

been  wrong — will  you  take  the  hand 
of  a  man  who  only  fought?" 

The  larger  placed  his  arm  round  the 
smaller  in  the  chair,  and  there  was  no 
sound  but  the  wind  in  the  trees  and 
the  candle  sputtering  in  the  socket. 

"Milt,  damn  it! — I  beg  a  thousand 
pardons,  Miss — haven't  you  got  some 
applejack,  plain  alcohol,  or  some- 
thing?" The  Colonel  stretched  and 
straightened  till  he  seemed  to  touch 
the  roof. 

"No'p,  Elephant;  ain't  got  no  lux- 
uries, 'less  it's  mullen." 

"Can  you  spare  a  little?" 
'Yep,    I    cahilate;     there    on    the 
chimbley." 

The  Colonel  lighted  a  pipe  as  black 
as  the  pot  hanging  on  the  crane,  and 
his  face  was  glorious — it  was  the  most 
gallant  act  of  his  life. 

"Try  it,  Philip!"  he  exclaimed  with 

[214] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

enthusiasm.  "There's  nothing  like 
it!" 

He  turned  to  the  Incomparable,  "I 
have  been  delighted  to  know  of  your 
success."  Then  he  paused  abruptly t 
and  in  confusion  glanced  toward 
Shanks,  whose  eye  kindled  as  he 
spoke : 

"Elephant,  I've  an  idy— one  'at 
never  come  till  now — you  put  the  rail- 
road through  Happyville,  didn't  you — 
that  wuz  what  fetched  you  hyere — an' 
you  brung  along  that  surveyin'  feller, 
whose  woman  tuk  little  Mad  off  to 
ejicate?" 

"What  of  it?"  Hardy's  smile  broad- 
ened. 

"  You  can't  fool  me — you  done  all  this 
fer  her  yerself — but  you  done  it  under 
a  'sumed  name!" 

"Milt,  the  only  thing  I  know  is  that 
— several  hundred  years  ago,  as  it 

[215] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

seems — there  was  a  better  boy  than  I 
who  wanted  to  go  to  West  Point,  but  he 
stood  aside  for  me." 

Shanks  waved  his  hand  toward  the 
picture  of  himself  and  the  Incompara- 
ble, "Fetch  it  hyere,  Dan'l — an'  git 
my  spec's,  Mad'line — quick." 

He  put  them  on,  but  only  to  remove 
them,  saying:  "They's  sumpin'  on  'em 
— I  can't  see — I " 

His  pipe  fell  to  the  floor  and 
something  like  lightning  shivered  his 
body. 

He  smiled  and  spoke  with  difficulty: 
"  Come  nearer,  Mad'line,  my  dear  chile, 
I  want  to  make  a  will — I'm  rich,  fer 
I've  got  you! — I'm  the  riches'  man  in 
all  the  worl' — I  give  you  to  Dan'l — 
ferever!" 

He  gazed  into  the  fire  and  its  ashes 
came  into  his  lips  as  he  added:  "No'p; 
I  didn't  want  to  be  hard  on  Grant — 

[216] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

but  Vicksburg  had  to  fall — an'  so  I 
went  myself. 

"Up — up!"  he  whispered. 

As  they  raised  him,  a  tide  flowed  into 
the  room — a  grand,  white  tide  from  a 
far-off  sea;  his  head  lifted  hi  majesty: 

"Lincoln  says:  'Come,  Milt;  I'll 
muster  you  into  the  service  as  my 
friend!"' 

When  they  laid  him  down,  his  face 
wras  like  sunlight  upon  the  snow. 

Hardy  was  the  first  to  speak:  "He 
ought  to  have  a  badge  of  some  kind!" 

"He  has  one,"  calmly  replied  the 
Incomparable,  turning  to  the  Bible 
upon  the  clock  shelf;  "I've  been  sav- 
ing it  for  him." 

She  placed  the  little  flag  upon  his 
breast  and  laid  his  hand  where  the 
blue  wras — and  all  the  stars. 


[217] 


CHAPTER  X 

THEY  were  going  back  to  Mill- 
ville;  the  Incomparable  had  de- 
cided that  the  story  must  be 
read  in  the  air  which  had  borne  evil 
report  against  him. 

"Colonel,  do  people  always  look  so 
small — afterward?'*  Philip  asked  that 
morning. 

"No — not  all — once  in  a  while  a 
gentleman  dies — and  his  soul  is  so 
large  that  you  miss  it." 

They  reached  Millville  in  the  even- 
ing, and  little  by  little,  fragments  of 
village  memory  stirred  from  their  long 
sleep.  The  usual  crowd  was  assem- 
bled after  dark  when  two  strangers  en- 
tered the  blacksmith  shop.  The  Colo- 
nel silently  surveyed  the  scene — the 

[218] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

cobwebbed  windows,  the  cinder  floor, 
gritting  underfoot,  the  rafters  hung 
with  horseshoes,  the  tin-reflectored, 
smoky-chimneyed  lamp  against  the 
wall;  the  creaking,  whistling  bellows, 
like  the  snout  of  some  sea  monster, 
breathing  violet  flames  into  the  queer 
dusk  about  the  forge ;  the  gray-bearded, 
leather-aproned,  sooty-wrinkled,  open- 
shirted  smith  with  pipe  turned  upside 
down. 

"Howdy,  gentlemen."  He  watched 
the  glowing  wagon  tire  and  listened 
as  another  of  his  years,  perched  high 
beneath  the  lamp,  read  the  weekly 
paper. 

Conversation  ceased  round  the  door; 
the  idlers  straggled  in  to  whisper 
and  watch  the  strangers;  now  the 
smith  added  a  glance  to  the  specu- 
lation and  heaped  more  cinders  upon 
the  tire. 

[219] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"Better  stand  back  a  little!" 

There  is  no  discord  in  the  anvil's 
scale;  it  is  the  only  song  that  meteors 
leap  from. 

The  work  was  done. 

"What's  the  damage?"  asked  the 
farmer. 

"Quarter." 

The  smith  stripped  perspiration  from 
his  brow,  dropped  the  coin  into  a  bag 
and  tied  the  strings,  then  wiped  his 
hands  upon  the  leather  apron,  filled  his 
pipe,  and  gazed  inquiringly. 

'You  play  a  good  tune,"  observed 
Hardy. 

"I  practise  a  heap,  sir." 

The  crowd  smiled. 

"But  there's  music  in  you."  The 
Colonel  placed  his  finger  upon  the 
blacksmith's  cheek.  "That  scar  tells 
me  you  were  once  a  bugler." 

The  smith  stepped  back,   squinted 

[220] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

his     eyes,    then     extended    both    his 
hands. 

"I  want  to  ask  a  favor,"  said  the 
Colonel;  the  two  stepped  to  the 
door. 

The  church  was  crowded  next  day, 
but  only  a  few  had  known  our  friend, 
and  they  were  amazed  that  Colonel 
Hardy  should  have  returned  with  the 
body  of  his  foe. 

A  young  minister  prayed,  read  a 
chapter,  and  announced  that  services 
would  be  concluded  in  the  yard. 

There  the  soldiers  had  eaten  their 
last  dinner;  in  the  doorway  the 
battle-flag  had  been  given;  yonder 
was  the  covered  bridge,  warped, 
its  floor  sunken  between  the  piers, 
half  its  siding  gone;  there  was 
the  roadside — the  thicket  through 
which  he  had  crawled  to  watch 

[221] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

the  fading  volunteers    and    then   the 
dust. 

Near  the  fence  was  a  monument, 
small  yet  distinguishable  from  the  rest 
— a  broken  column  with  soldier  cap 
and  sword,  and  the  inscription: 

Madeline  Shanks— 1825-1863. 
Major  Joseph  Shanks— 1845-1863. 
Armies  are  inspired  by  gallant  deaths 
no  less  than  victories. 

Out  of  the  sky,  overcast  with  gray, 
sifted  the  first  light  fall  of  snow. 

"It's  the  place,  Dan'l;  read  it  with- 
out no  frills." 

It  seemed  to  Philip  as  if  the  words 
came  out  of  the  trees. 

As  he  turned  the  pages,  old  men 
with  soldier  buttons  in  their  coats 
moved  nervously  nearer,  leaning  for- 
ward on  their  canes,  and  at  the  end 
a  sigh  like  the  penitence  of  pitiless 

[222] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

Chance  swept  over  the  astonished 
villagers. 

The  Incomparable  appeared  to  stand 
apart  from  all  the  others,  and  when  at 
last  she  raised  her  eyes,  it  was  with 
pride  unutterable.  She  might  have 
been  the  last  of  a  Roman  line,  rather 
than  the  last  of  a  simple  woodsman's 
blood. 

The  young  minister  lifted  his  hands. 

"And  one  of  the  elders  answered, 
saying  unto  me :  *  What  are  these  which 
are  arrayed  in  white  robes  and  whence 
came  they?'  And  I  said  unto  him: 
'Sir,  thou  knowest';  and  he  said  unto 
me:  *  These  are  they  which  came  out 
of  great  tribulation  and  have  washed 
their  robes  and  made  them  white  in 
the  blood  of  the  Lamb.'" 

The  blacksmith  drew  a  battered 
bugle  from  his  coat.  For  a  little 
while  the  call  of  "Taps''  lingered 

[223] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

round,  then  it  floated  off  down  the 
valley — and  Milton  Shanks  was  mus- 
tered out  as  a  soldier. 

The  Millville  region  was  robed  in 
snow.  Windows  of  farm-houses  were 
hung  with  evergreens,  and  lamp-lights 
fell  pink  upon  the  glistening  earth. 
The  sky  was  clear;  the  air  was  keen 
and  strung  with  bells.  Among  the 
sleighs  which  flew  along  the  pike 
with  song  and  laughter,  one  was 
silent.  It  stopped  before  the  village 
church. 

Santa  Claus  had  come  to  that  church 
the  night  before  and  found  it  clad  in 
boughs  with  candles  in  them,  and  chil- 
dren for  miles  around  had  shouted 
greetings. 

The  door  now  opened,  and  the 
twinkling  candles  in  the  boughs  gave 
welcome. 

[224] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

As  they  stood  in  the  trembling 
light,  she  was  like  the  calmness 
of  evening,  plumed  with  a  golden 
cloud. 

Long  years  before,  in  a  cabin,  a  lit- 
tle girl  who  had  come  as  a  Christmas 
present,  1  sped  a  confidence  to  her 
grandfather — that  she  would  be  mar- 
ried this  night. 

The  moon  rolled  out  of  a  dappled 
cloud  and  it  was  bright  as  day. 
Two  figures  knelt  by  a  mound  in 
the  church -yard.  It  was  wrapped  in 
a  mantle  of  silver.  Upon  it  a  rev- 
erent hand  now  placed  a  wreath  of 
holly. 

A  tall,  straight  man  whose  hair  was 
white  bowed  to  say:  "I'd  like  to  put 
a  monument  here — one  that's  white — 
one  that's  high." 

For  a  moment  she  lifted  her  eyes 
as  one  who  heard  but  indistinctly. 

[225] 


THE  GLORY  OF  HIS  COUNTRY 

"Colonel,  you  are  a  dear  old  soul, 
but  only  one  monument  will  do — the 
Glory  of  his  Country." 


[226] 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000043733     5 


W.  M.  DERBY.  JR. 

4857    KlMBAR.',   AVE. 

CHICAGO 


